The Aspect of Fire - Book II - Incursions
by Roku - Molester of Science
Summary: [Sequel to 'The Aspect of Fire - Book I - Interventions'] Roku and Thomas together stopped Nazara and Saren, thus postponing the invasion of the galaxy. Now, as the Harbinger makes his next move, the remainders of the Normandy's ground-team attempts to recover from the attack on their ship. An interlude of two years.
1. Chapter 1

**This is it. Book Two is here. **

**I hope this one will be just as fun to do as Book I was. **

* * *

The Aspect of Fire

Book II - Skyfall

* * *

**Aspect of Change**

* * *

_I don't know how long I have, how long we have… which makes using a recorder much more… it makes it easier… fuck, I'm just nervous, is all… I hope…_

_Okay, so… I haven't done one of these since the mission to Virmire, and I lost my recorder there when my Omnitool went to hell… back on track. We're going… going _there_, and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do now. I've told Jane what is waiting, so… do I just wait? Fuck, fuck, fuck…_

_There's… the chance, that things go really, really bad. That people might die… that _I_ might die. Funny, once, this used to be… I dunno, just… different. But, I'm recording this, and everything else I can think of, in case my fears are right. I don't know if I should name them, like naming a nightmare, which usually would be a good thing, but…huh… okay. So… from what I've been able to gather so far, there's the risk that the Collectors might be going after _me_, not Jane or John…_

_Neither of them killed Saren, or blew up Sovereign, and… fuck, what do I do?_

_We're near the system now… the system where it could all go so far to Hell that… I can't even think of a metaphor. So, I suppose this is where I spill all the beans, come clean with all my secrets and emotional shit and… damn, I'm not good at this kind of stuff, confessing to a mike while hiding by the brig. Hehehe… I remember keeping Jacob locked up here, right next to me… I wonder if he's still alive._

_So… for starters, and to get past the obvious: Ash, if you find this, and I died or… I love you. I love you, Ashley Madeline Williams, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don't know if that means marriage or just being with you. It doesn't matter, not to me, as long as I can be with you… oh crap, don't start cho- choking up now… _

_Ashley, since the day I first met you… you've been… been my guardian angel, the light of my life. You never betrayed my trust, and always seemed to trust me, even back when I still held secrets from you. I could always tell you about my problems, what troubled me… and now, if… no. No, we're going to make this. I have a special question for you, but… but I'll hold onto it for now. That'll be all, Chief Williams._

_Okay… next… to all my friends on the Normandy._

_Serving with you have been the best time of my life, regardless of the fucked up shit that happened during so. I know, that we lost people, good people. Sev… Scorch, Boss, I know you miss him. We all do. Sev was… more brave than any one of us, and… more than just a clone. He was a valued comrade, just like Fixer was… _

_Garrus… Garrus was… Gods, he was one of my best friends, and… a part of me knows that… feels that it was my fault he died. If I'd just been faster… What we can do, is to make sure no more people die. I… … … I don't know if that came onto the recorder, but Joker just announced we entered the Amada-system… this is it. Maybe I should… say a prayer…_

_For my deeds, Talos protect me_

_For my deeds bad, Mara forgive me_

_For my deeds good, Stendarr preserve me_

_And should I die, Arkay guide me._

_Service Chief Thomas Vestergaard Fisher, Alliance Marines - December 21__th__, 2183_

* * *

December 21st

SSV Normandy

Deck 3. Gym, brig and crew quarters.

18:28

Thomas groaned, getting to his feet by the brig. He, as well as most of the ground crew, was wearing armor and suit instead of uniforms. He worried that Roku, who might try to fulfil the task his master had given him, would sense that Shepard, both of them, knew what was wrong. Thomas just hoped the aspect would write it off as caution, going into a system with multiple missing ships.

Turning his Omnitool off, he took his right index finger and thumb up, touching the small hammer around his neck. Ashley had given it to him, on the last date they had before shipping out for the current mission. In a way, he felt it provided him with some base good luck.

He was alone on the deck, not even the usual crewmen standing around, chatting and enjoying their shifts being done for the day, or night, depending on luck. He had tried pulling nightshift once, with Hillary… Gods, was that a shitty way to spend the night; sitting up, downing six cups of coffee, trying to explain the bending and breaking of science and reality to a confused and tired woman.

As he walked for the lift, Thomas felt his legs starting to buckle beneath him, shake as if he hadn't eaten in days. It wasn't lack of food though, but anxiousness that was settling in. Thomas had full confidence in Joker being able to outrun the Collectors, if he actually had a notion they were capable of peeking through the stealth-field around the Normandy.

Thomas _really_ hoped he did.

As the lift came to a stop one deck above, at the mess hall, he stepped out while feeling ready to both drop dead and jump high. Each second brought him both more adrenaline, coursing through his veins, and more fatigue, as the knowledge of what might happen. Roku, once more, surfaced in his thoughts.

What the hell was he going to do, if Roku really wanted one of the Shepards dead?

"Hey Chief." He was brought from more dark thoughts by Hillary, the private now armored in her trademark pink-and-white phase-II armor. She had definitely started warming back up towards him, and Nicolai, Jane and the rest of the people responsible for breaking reality. Still, he knew to be wary of what he said, as she still had no clue that he knew it all as a game, back then.

"Hey Hillary." He responded. She blinked at the informal words, trained to address superiors with rank and surname only; "What're you doing?"

"Waiting." She said, looking at the table. While Thomas doubted she had been told of what was impending exactly, they had all been told to suit up, just in case. Maybe she was nervous?

"For…?" He urged as he leaned against the wall next to her.

"I dunno… some sort of shit, I suppose. Hell, ten ships were lost out here, you bet I'm concerned."

"Ah…" He nodded, then stopped. Could he tell Hillary what was going to happen? What would she do, how would she react to it? Would it make a difference for the better or worse?

"You know, I still remember back on Eden Prime, how we picked your scorched ass from the grass." She then said, chuckling lightly at the memory. Thomas was tempted to reply that he too, had picked _her_ scorched ass from Eden Prime, but decided not to. For Hillary, what happened on that planet was still fresh in mind, as she had been sleeping through most of the campaign.

"You do?" He ended up asking instead.

"Yeah… Donkey had just shared his wisdom that we were going to have some shitty weather…" She said, and as she spoke, her smile faltered and became a thin line; "… I can't believe they are all gone…"

"I'm sorry…" Thomas said, and what else _could _he say? Sure, he missed them as well, but knew that it was just as much his fault that they had died, and so he had no right to say he missed them too.

"It's just the three of us left now…" She muttered, and blew a puff of air into her hair, blonde locks dancing at the gust of wind; "The guys… were they buried?"

Thomas winced at the question, as he knew perfectly well what had most likely happened to them, to his, Ashley's and Hillary's friend and team-mates. They were probably Husks now, roaming the countryside of Eden Prime, or just lying as corpses, gunned down by Alliance teams.

"I… don't know."

"So… they became _those_ things, huh?" She muttered, looking down at her hands; "Jimmy, Mikhail… Bolin, Donkey… everyone?" Thomas winced once more, this time as he was taken aback by the direct question. No point in lying to her, then.

"I guess so…"

"…Figures…" She muttered, clenching a fist beneath the table. Thomas looked around for a subject of conversation, as he was really uncomfortable with the one reminding him of his greatest mistake so far: To let Dog-Squad be slaughtered.

"I'm heading up to the CIC… wanna come?" He said. He really _did_ need to get going, as they were in the system where the Collectors might be waiting. He wasn't going to be caught unaware, or to risk Joker making the same mistakes. If push came to shove, he would kick both John and Jane into the escape pods, then haul Joker's crippled ass into the one next to the cockpit. If Roku tried anything… things would get nasty. Hillary blew out a sigh and stood;

"Might as well…" She said with little enthusiasm. Thomas pushed out from the wall and walked next to her as they headed up the stairs. He felt more and more anxious as time passed, and as they emerged in the CIC, he saw Jane and John stand in conversation near the map, the rest of the ground crew standing around elsewhere on the bridge, or waiting in the briefing room. Tali, of course, was still in engineering, and Nicolai was down in the hangar, working on his weapons.

With a nod to the Shepards, Thomas left Hillary at the CIC and continued up towards the cockpit. Here, he was surprised to find that Roku was standing behind Joker's chair, arms crossed. The geth turned its head and gave Thomas a brief look, then looked back at Joker.

"So, you ever do the robot?" Joker asked, not looking up from his systems.

"…No."

"Oh come on! Why not?"

"I have no interest in fulfilling one of your juvenile fantasies, Joker. Your Asari - Hanar files should be adequate." Roku stated with close to no emotion in his voice.

"But you have the epic body for it!"

"No."

"Dammit…" Joker muttered, returning attention to his displays and panels; "Alright, the board is green; we're running silent."

"We're wasting our time. Turian ships already combed this place over four times, and they haven't found any sign of geth or pirate activity, Reaper-ships included." Pressley huffed annoyed, tapping in commands on his datapad as he walked up next to the cockpit. Thomas repressed a wince as he found the sentence far too familiar for comfort.

"Ten ships went missing here the past month. Something happened to 'em." Joker replied, not taking his eyes off of the displays. The feeling of dread that Thomas had noticed earlier, had now started settling completely over him. Roku turned his head to look at him, pedals flat against the head, as if silently expressing sympathy or an apology; "Besides, cap said it might not even be any of those baddies out here."

"My money are still on slavers. The Terminus are crawling with them." Pressley betted, entering a new set of commands on his datapad. The timeline was horrifyingly restored as the female ensign in the chair next to Joker's, received a new signal.

"Picking up something on the long-range scanner…unidentified vessel. Hmm, looks like a cruiser…" Even as the woman spoke, alarming _beeps_ started calling out from her console.

"Doesn't match any known signatures…" Joker muttered. Thomas stared straight into the optical lens of Roku, mustering every ounce of willpower he could.

"What are you going to do?" He asked in a low tone.

"…Ensure that what must happen, happens…" The aspect said, though he sounded none too pleased about it. Thomas clenched his fists, feeling his teeth grit.

"I'm not going to let you do it, Roku." He muttered with a strained voice, even as more alarms started going off.

"Cruiser is changing course… now on intercept trajectory." The ensign said, mild confusion in her voice.

"Can't be. Stealth-systems are engaged, there's no way a geth ship could possibly-" Pressley started, hands dancing over multiple systems and displays as he tried finding the error. Joker though, cut him short;

"It's not the geth! E.T baddies inbound!" the pilot shouted, activating alarms within the ship. Thomas felt his stomach churn as Joker sent the Normandy into a relatively vertical descend; "All hands, it's the new guys!"

The vertical descend Joker kicked the Normandy into, was proven to save lives as a beam of sickly, yellow particles carved through space just where the Normandy had been only moments earlier.

"To your posts! Battle stations!" Pressley shouted, opening up ship-wide comms; "All hands, man your stations! We're under attack from a heavily armed unknown enemy!"

The ship became a living chaos at that, with the crew running to their posts, to their equipment to be somewhere they were overall useful. The ground crew was on its way down to the second deck already, a few of them aware that they would soon lose the Normandy, if things came to pass.

The second attack came right after the first, this time aimed with far more lethal precision.

The beam carved into the armored hull of the Normandy, only briefly stopped by the barriers and shielding that was supposed to block all but a direct barrage from even cruisers. The plating was torn to shreds above them, causing the kinetic barriers to spring to life, only to overheat an instant later. Panels started exploding around them as Thomas gripped the wall for a hold, seeing Roku do the same.

"Joker! Jump out of the system! NOW!" Thomas yelled.

"I'm trying! The engines-"

"I SAID NOW YOU CRIPPLED JACKASS!" Thomas now nearly screamed, feeling adrenaline pump through his body with each lurch and tremble going through the ship. Just then, a new series of explosions went through the bridge and cockpit, and a blast sent Pressley flying into the opposite wall, out cold.

"Presley!" The ensign shouted, getting up from her chair to help the man, just as a new beam washed over the Normandy, carving off the right wing and essentially leaving it dead in the water. The resulting explosion blasted the woman off her feet, and straight into the wall. As she hit, a wet, disgusting crack could be heard as her neck broke, killing her on the spot.

"Where's the Captain?!" Joker yelled as a crewmember started putting out a fire that had broken out at the dead ensigns post.

"I think she's launching the distress-beacon, down on deck 2!" The man yelled. Thomas fought to remain standing as Joker desperately tried maneuvering the Normandy out of harm's way. Only, with just half the wings left, it was a futile effort.

"Roku! Get down there and help her!" Thomas yelled as he yanked the unconscious Presley onto his shoulders; "And by Talos, if I find out you did something…" the unspoken threat was enough to make the aspect pause, as Thomas slammed the button for the escape pod.

"Good luck." Roku said, then was off down the hallway to the CIC. Thomas sneered in frustration, the situation being so much more overwhelming than he had ever thought it could be. Constant fire, alarm, explosions and trembling groans as the ship was carved apart by the Collector vessel. As he placed the unconscious navigator roughly in a seat, the alarms sounded, signaling for evac.

'Abandon ship', was a signal even he knew.

Now he just needed to haul joker out of the cockpit, into an escape pod and wait for either John or Jane to show up, then promptly shove the Shepard into the escape pod as well. In the background, Joker started yelling, even as a new blast tore straight through the hull above the CIC, opening up to the open, cold and dead void. Thomas, in raw panic at the sight, slammed the side of his own helmet, activating the armor's air-supply. As the air was sucked from the CIC, so was everything not welded down.

Crewmembers included...

As he saw the silent trashing of the remaining crewmembers being sucked into space, he prayed his ten minutes of air would be enough. Next to him, the moment the hull had been breached on the bridge, a blue barrier had sprung up, sealing off the cockpit from the void. The magnetic soles in his boots kept him grounded, as a voice sprung into his helmet's comms;

"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is the SSV Normandy!" Joker's panicked voice was the only sound Thomas could hear now, as even the brilliant explosions around him made no sound at all, only small ripples in their own pockets of released air as the fires came into being and instantly were snuffed again._ I have to get Joker to the pod before anyone dies! Oh fuck, this is so wrong!_

"We've suffered heavy damage from an unknown enemy!" Joker shouted again, and Thomas had no choice but to recall the exact same sentence from the game. He knew what would follow now, and had no longer any time left to waste.

Pulling each step from the floor, he stomped into the cockpit, where the pilot was frantically trying to save his ship;

"Come one, Baby! Hold togeth-!" Joker was begging his ship not to die on him, not that the Collectors would answer his prayer though. Thomas made it to the pilot before he finished his sentence.

"Joker! Get to the escape pod!" Thomas yelled, yanking the pilot's shoulder hard enough that he normally would have worried about breaking something. Now though, he didn't give a shit.

"No! I'm not losing the Normandy! I can still-" Thomas cut him off by grabbing the man with his bionic hand, pulling him violently from his chair even as the cripple protested and yelled in pain.

"Let go of me! I can save the Normandy, just let me-!"

"Joker! The Normandy's a wreck! I'm perfectly willing to let you kill yourself afterwards, but get to the fucking escape-pod!" Thomas yelled desperately, not letting up on his forced march with the pilot. If he could just kick Joker into the pod, then the same with whomever was coming, he could avoid whatever sick twist Roku's "master" was planning. _I can do this! I can do this!_

"Auw! You don't have to break my arm!" Joker protested as he was roughly shoved into the pod, landing on the floor of the small craft with a thud and a few breaking noises, likely his legs. Hopefully… Still, the agonizing yelps indicated it was more serious…

"Thomas!" He snapped to the right at the voice, seeing John walking towards him by way of mag-boots. The Quarian was already fully armored, meaning Jane must have told him to be ready; "What-"

"John! Where's Ashle- Where's Jane?" He demanded, giving hell in chain of command for the moment. He needed to do this, and he just had to pray Roku would at least keep Ashley safe. He had to.

"She sent the beacon and went to engineering to make sure everyone was out. Where's Joker?"

"In the escape-pod. Now _please_ get in too!" Thomas begged, feeling hiss blood almost boil. John nodded and headed for the pod.

If one could hear in space, Thomas would have been no less horrified or surprised as a new beam, radiating malice, carved through the Normandy altogether, severing the forward bridge from the rest of the CIC. Almost in slow-motion, he saw the shockwave slam John into a wall, then back off as the Normandy trembled even more violently, smacking the Quarian away from the wall. _NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!_

Shutting the escape-pod's hatch, Thomas leapt from the floor, after John. The Commander was unconscious it seemed, floating calmly away from the ship, even as more explosions racked the vessel. In the near distance, Thomas saw the blue trails from the escape-pods as they shot out from the ship, leaving the burning husk that had once been home.

"JOHN!"

"There was no response to his call, and Thomas tried to grasp for the limp Quarian's hand, fingers dancing only inches from those of the Quarian's. _Why didn't Roku ever teach me to fucking fly!? Come on! Come on!_

He tried to will everything he had left of energy into his feet, praying to every single god and divine being that he could just this once manage to fly. He only just need to do it to get John and get back to the ship. _I just have to get him! Please! Talos! Akatosh! Mara! Help me goddammit! _

He was getting closer now, close enough to see small wafts of oxygen, visible as gaseous or steamy air, streamed from the back of John's armor. The impact with the wall had damaged the suit's air-supply somehow. _Oh gods no! No no no nonono!_

"Come on you bastard!" He yelled through building tears. No matter what he did, John remained out of reach, and no fire came to his feet. He could only kick and scream as he saw the commander slowly drift ahead of him, towards the surface of the ice-covered planet. A planet Thomas right now wanted nothing less than to nuke on a global scale, simply for the crime of existing.

"No! No! NOOO! John!" tears fell from his eyes, floating in the small space inside his helmet. He screamed without sound as he felt John, his commander and friend, remain out of reach and float further and further away; "COME ON YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

Fire suddenly sprung from his feet, catapulting Thomas forward through the void with substantial speed. He was so shocked and surprised at this, that he remained in the middle of accursing the universe, even as he gained on the unconscious Quarian. Quickly however, he got over the surprise. _Finally! Come on! I'm not letting this happen!_

Boosted by the fiery jets of emerald springing from the soles of his boots, Thomas sped towards the Quarian, reaching a hand out to grab him. It was only when he closed in to almost being able to touch his friend, that Thomas realized something that made the blood freeze in his veins: he had no idea what to do when he _did_ catch John.

Currently though, all his effort was directed at getting to John, now only a few meters away. Tears were still floating in the small space of his helmet, occasionally splashing wet warmth against his skin or eyes when he moved his face. He was so close, just a meter now. He could reach out for John now. _Nearly there!_

He reached out and grabbed John's wrist, using his bionic hand to keep a tight grip on the Quarian, as he started using the right hand to spew out fire, directing towards aid the best he could.

Suddenly, the problem ceased to be finding a place to land, a safe place. Maybe he could have found the Kodiak-shuttle, forced it open and sought refuge there. But what happened then, was outside his immediate ability to process.

A form, a shape that was almost human, appeared in the void, hovering just in front of him.

"What in…" Thomas started, unable to understand what was in front of him, before him. It was, by all accounts, a Collector. Only, it wasn't. This, was a Collector, but with azure skin, ornamental clothing, almost like armor, and a quad of eyes with twin-linked pupils, glaring at him with a stern expression.

"_I see Roku failed. No matter, it was to be expected."_ The entity stated, looking at Thomas like he had done the… thing, aspect maybe, a personal insult. Thomas still had absolutely no clue what or who the hell he was looking at, only that his own air supply was rapidly dwindling.

"Wha…" Thomas mouthed, trying to speak as the talking Collector made a casual, sweeping movement with his, _its_ hands. Instantly, Thomas felt his arms, his entire body, completely lose control. The blood stopped in his veins, and his muscles went into spasms, causing pain to wash over him as well as nausea.

"_You are important… you shall live."_

"Whaaa- What the- Fuck!" He groaned and cried in frustration and agony. He had no control at all. His own body was releasing John from safety, even going as far as shoving the Quarian away, towards Alchera; "JO- JOHN!"

Thomas couldn't even find any power to attempt catching John again. He was held, floating in space as he watched John drift away from him. Tears were streaming from his eyes as the Quarian became smaller and smaller against the icy planet. _NO NO NO! NO PLEASE GOD! DIVINES! GODS! JESUS, HELP ME!_

He had no idea who the entity was, or why it would, _could_ be thís cruel. He had _had_ him. Gods be damned, he'd _had_ John right there. He had saved him!

"_Sleep, young mortal. Sleep and be safe. Time has been restored once more, and all is as it should be."_

Thomas wanted to scream, to grab a hold of whatever the thing, the Collector or whatever the hell it was, and tear out its eyes, one at a time. He wanted to make it suffer. The bastard had just doomed John, doomed him to fall to his death on the shitty world of Alchera, and there was nothing Thomas could do about it now.

"_Sleep. Sleep and forget."_ The second time the being spoke, the word had so much more command to it, that Thomas had no choice, but to comply. His body started shutting down even as he protested and wept, trying to maintain eyes on John as the commander became a small speck against the planet._ No… no please…_

* * *

Normandy Escape Pod 2

18:59

Ashley worked desperately at getting the scanners to work. She had called around to the other pods, ending up with the one Joker and Pressley were in, and all gave the same response.

Thomas wasn't there.

She knew he had to be alive. He had already survived so much worse than this, there was no way he would die now. Not like this. She just had to find him. Next to her, Liara knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Ashley knew it was an attempt at providing some comfort, but God dammit, couldn't the Asari see she just needed some space to get the fucking apparatus working?

"Ashley…"

"What!?" She snapped, not bothering to look away from her work. This was more important than offering Liara a burning glare. The Asari could go stuff her sympathies for all she cared. She didn't need them, because Thomas was _alive._

"Are you… well?"

"You know how to operate a Languor Mark Five close-range scanner?" Ashley snapped again, causing Liara to frown. Scorch was in the pod, so at least the Asari knew _her_ boyfriend was safe. Ashley knew Thomas was safe too, she just had to _find_ him.

"I… no. I do not know how to operate sensitive equipment like this. But Thomas will make it, I know it."

"OF COURSE HE'S GOING TO MAKE IT!" Ashley shouted, snapping at the relatively younger woman with all the pent-up frustration and anger in her. The feeling of panic from the destruction of the Normandy had been completely replaced by anger and desperation as she could account for all but two members of the ground team.

"Ashley. Liara is just trying to help. Shout at me if you have to, but don't vent on her." Jane said from her place in one of the seats, wearing a phase-II set of armor. Her Bulwark had been lost in the explosion, seeing how she would have never been able to fit it in a pod-chair, nor leave any actual room for the others.

"Where the fuck is Roku when you need him…" Ashley growled, hitting the panel in front of her with a fist. Instead of getting a response from the geth-platform, she received the signal that the scanner was finally online and searching; "Finally…"

"Captain, do we know the whereabouts of all members of the team?" Boss asked from his seat. He was keeping a remarkably calm expression, looking like he was calculating and processing the recent events, instead of panicking. Ashley, even in her rage and frustration, couldn't help but see the look of defeat on the red-head's face.

"We have no idea where both Fisher and John is… so far, the death-toll is confirmed to ten of the engineers, Tali thankfully excluded, as well as almost the entire bridge-crew… God, why didn't I prevent this?"

"Because you can be a bloody moron at times." Ashley was surprised at her own words, but continued even as her eyes remained on the scanner, praying to see, if not two, then at least the _one_ life-signature she needed to see; "And the emotional part of me wants to punch you in the floor for… a lot of things. Now shut it, I'm trying to look for a signal."

"Thank you, for your loyalty and support, Williams." Jane grumbled, though kept it at thát, likely knowing that the Gunnery Chief was nowhere near in the mood for anything but hard facts. Insulting her would mean starting a fight in an escape-pod.

"I said _shut it_, ma'am. I need-" Ashley was interrupted by a sudden _ping_ that came in on the small display in front of her, hunched over as she was. She brought up the display, and was presented with the radar-layout for their immediate surroundings. The screen showed her _one_ ping, one dot of life that was merely a hundred meters away. Instantly, she brought up the visual displays from the exterior cameras.

"Williams?" Boss asked. Ashley could feel her heart almost hammer its way through her armor.

"I found him! Thank you God! Thank you!" She cried, staring at the still, but living figure of a human marine in a green-tinted phase-II suit. It had scorches, yes, but it was intact.

"Fisher?" Jane asked. Ashley wasn't going to waste time answering that, and instead began going through manual controls for the pod. Each escape-pod was equipped with enough fuel to navigate away from potentially hazardous areas, like an exploding starship, and could be manually controlled by even a toddler.

"If you have located the Service Chief…" Boss started, a solemn and saddened expression on his face.

"I don't think Tali will like this…" Scorch finished. His expression was much more emotional and unguarded than what his immediate superior displayed.

"Goddess…" Liara whispered, hand covering her mouth; "Oh no."

"Shut up! I'm trying to steer this thing…" Ashley barked. She didn't care for even a moment that, aside from Liara, everyone else in the pod outranked her. She just cared about getting to the human floating in space, now just seventy meters away and closing.

"Any sign of John?" Jane asked quietly. She knew that Tali was likely growing just as desperate as Ashley was, and that the young engineer had likely hacked the entire swarm of pods, just to hear anything said in relation to John. Jane knew all too well what it meant to lose the ones you love.

"I don't see him. If he's alive out there, the scans aren't picking him up." Ashley said with a professional voice that startled the entire group of survivors; "I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean…" She muttered, trying to form an apology. There was nothing after that, and the pod assumed an almost dead silence, aside from the heavy breathing of the distressed crewmembers.

As the pod closed in on the man she was emotionally bound to, Ashley started noticing a shimmering light dancing over his body. It was faint, and only registered when she looked at the scans again and again, trying to understand what was in front of her. It was Thomas alright, thank God for small mercies, but… there was something covering him.

"He is in a stasis field." Liara stated from behind her, with such suddenness that Ashley almost jumped right up from shock alone; "The armor holds but ten minutes of oxygen. It has been longer since the attack…"

"So he's kept alive by the field?" Scorch asked, trying to eek around the blue girl to get a look at the screen.

"Yes, I think so. Maybe John is out there too, encased in the same protection?" Liara said. Ashley shook her head slowly. If John was out there, he'd have been picked up by the scans, stasis or not. She didn't say this, though, as she felt enough pain was caused without putting word to it.

"Can we bring him inside the pod?" She finally asked as she stopped the vessel, just a few meters from the man she loved. Through the cameras, she could see there were no ruptures or gashes in his armor, none apart from what had already been there. Relief flooded her.

In one of the other pods, after having listened through the channels of the pods, a young Quarian girl had already broken into hysterical weeping and screaming.

"I don't see how... The pods only have a single door. Open it, and we suck everything out…" Jane muttered.

"Then what? Just leave him out there?" Ashley demanded, glaring at her Captain. The red-head remained calm and collected in the face of a furious and desperate pair of brown eyes; "We don't even know how long that stasis field is going to last!" Ashley shouted, hitting the nearest panel with a tight fist.

"Stasis fields can last for hours, days even. If we leave him alone, the field will feed off his own energy, maintaining itself until we-" Jane started.

"_This is the BSV Guardian Angel, responding to Systems Alliance Normandy distress call. I repeat, this is the BSV Guardian Angel, responding to distress call in the Amada system."_

The entire pod once more fell silent, this time in disbelief more than anything else. Jane looked around at the other occupants, and decided to answer the call the moment she realized that it wasn't just her own imagination.

"This is Captain Shepard of the Normandy. We were attacked by a cruiser of unknown origin, approx twenty minutes ago. My crew is scattered in escape-pods nearby. Oxygen is fine, but we have men in space, at least one of them suspended in stasis. How copy?" She said. It was only after she had spoken that she realized what 'BSV' stood for.

Blue Suns...

"_Solid Copy, Captain. We already spotted one life-form drifting in biotic stasis. A shuttle will be dispatched to collect him."_

"Can you see a Quarian out there too?" Jane asked, praying that the answer would be yes, like 'yes, we do and will pick him up'. She would even settle for a 'yeah, but we don't like suit rats', as that would mean they had _seen_ John.

"_Negative. A single life form, and it's human." _The Voice, Turian if she guessed right, said.

"Fuck… oh fuck, Tali isn't going to… oh God."

"_Captain Shepard?" _

"Right, yes. How soon can you be here?"

"_We're two minutes out and closing. Do you or your crew require immediate treatment upon arrival?"_

"No, I think injuries have been minimal. The only injured is my pilot." Jane said, then added;"He suffers from Vrolik's syndrome."

"_I see. Captain, we have you on visuals now. Is… Spirits, the wreck, is that…"_

"The Normandy, yes."

"_I am sorry for your loss, Captain. It was… a good ship, I have heard."_

"It was." Jane muttered, keeping her eyes on the still form of her Service Chief, floating in space as he was. She had yet to process, much less accept or come to terms with the fact that she had lost John. She had _sworn_ to make sure they both survived, and she had just…

_She stood in front of the emergency controls, having just prepped the Distress Beacon, while the crew around her was running around, seeking positions and ways to make sure they made it. She turned the final handle, being rewarded with a ping as the beacon was ready._

"_Jane!" John'Shepard had called from behind, bringing her attention back as she secured her helmet. It had been some time since she had worn the regular phase-II, but she had kept the armor, just in case._

"_Distress beacon is ready for launch" She had said, just as the beacon did launch._

"_You think the Alliance will get here in time?" John had asked, doubt in his voice. Around them, electronics sparked and died in bursts of fire, more than one forcing her to bring up an arm to brace herself._

"_I'm sure as hell not doing this just to present some late team with a bunch of frozen corpses. How's the ship?"_

"_Fucked. Shields are gone, barriers down and we have more breaches-" An explosion rocked the ship; "Kazuat! Jane, we can't save the ship!"_

_Jane nodded and slammed the haptic display, calling for ship wide evacuation. She hated this, hated it all. She had lost the Normandy once already, by dying herself. Now, she would lose it a second time, to a species she had never even seen before. _

"_Get everyone to the escape-pods!"_

"_Jane, Joker's still in the cockpit, he won't leave. I'm getting him." The Quarian had said. It was one of those moments where he commanded such an aura of respect that she was compelled to nod._

"_Just don't die on me, okay?"_

"_Captain, I'll be-"_

"_I mean it, John. Don't you fucking dare leave me with a heartbroken Tali." And he had run off. He had run off, up the stairs. _

Now, now she had lost him. John had broken his promise, denied her order. He had gotten himself killed… She clenched her fists and cursed and swore beneath her breath, accursing whatever God or gods were really controlling the universe.

She looked at the other displays, showing a cruiser of Turian make slowly glide towards their little cluster of pods. It felt… empty, knowing she had failed. They were saved now, yes, but it had nothing to do with her efforts to keep people alive. She had failed. Thomas had bloody _warned_ her, and she had still chosen to just go ahead and wait things out. Stupid, stupid thing to do. Idiotic. Insane. Careless.

"_Captain Shepard, are you still with us?"_ She was jolted from her cursing and grinding of teeth by the Turian over the comms. Swallowing her frustrations, she forced herself to present the calm and collected face she knew a superior officer was supposed to carry at all times.

"I am. Status?"

"_We're dispatching shuttles to bring your pods into our main hangar. We're sending out a shuttle with crew to bring in your man from space. Prepare for transit."_

As the Turian spoke, Jane slumped down the wall of the pod, closing her eyes. She didn't bother reacting when a tremble went through the pod, as it was grabbed between a pair of outdated UH-42 Grizzly shuttles. _Everything… it all just… I lost another one. Why… why do I keep losing my friends? Why does everyone I care about DIE?!_

* * *

December 24th

BSV Guardian Angel

Medical facility, deck 2.

12:19

When Thomas woke up, he wasn't immediately aware of having even been under, or out of it. He knew he wasn't on the Normandy, for one. There was a whole new type of light here, where he looked up. It was like lying in the Medbay, actually. Except, the light here was… softer, sort of. That was the second thing he noticed, that he could see. That meant his eyes were open, which meant he was alive.

He could feel his entire body ache with soreness and pain, his arms mostly. It was impossible, as he wasn't even supposed to be able to be sore in the left arm. Part of it being bionic meant it was supposed to leave out that sort of stuff. He tried moving his head around, just looking around, but found that he simply didn't have the energy for it. It was as if all effort was directed at simply remaining awake.

Gods, but the pillow was soft. He found that he wanted nothing more than simply relaxing against the soft, cushioning material of a real, actual pillow. This one was far, far better than the Normandy pillows.

The Normandy…

What was it about the Normandy?

He was supposed to remember something about the Normandy, wasn't he? It was something rather important, he was sure, but… what? He sighed as memory eluded him, leaving him to simply enjoy the cool, soft pillow beneath his head. And a nice cover too, not too heavy or warm, and just thick enough that it was nice. But he was still sore. Maybe he had gone too much over the top in training?

The next thing he felt was a crushing hug, followed by what almost felt like desperation in the form of a kiss. Hot, soft lips pressed against his, with quick breathing being the only sound he could process as he tried understanding why he was being kissed, and by whom.

Obviously, the 'whom' had better be Ashley, or someone would be in serious trouble. Wait, he hadn't gotten drunk on leave and ended up with a hooker, right? No, no that would just be… besides, he didn't even like prostitution. It was wrong and… okay, yeah, that was definitely Ashley. He could recognize the taste of her now, the sound she made when breathing during a kiss. So, he did what he felt was right, and tried wrapping his arms around her back as he felt some of her weight on top of him, separated by the sheets. He could hardly move his arms though, so instead he settled for returning the kiss the best he could.

As it ended, his eyes could start taking in the appearance of his love, Ashley. She was teary and smiled at him with such relief that he started wiggling his toes, just to see if the relief was caused by her being glad he had survived getting his legs torn off. The again, what would have torn his legs off? Maybe Wrex, though the Krogan wasn't on the ship anymore. He'd gotten off the last time they were on Arcturus.

Kind of a shame, as it meant the Battlemaster, or Warlord or whatever he was, could escape being dressed up as Santa for Christmas. Ah well, would have probably looked silly too, so what the hell.

The next thing he noticed, was just how battered Ashley looked. There was a healing gash on her cheek, and she had a small amount of purple bruises on the chin, as well as a cracked lip. Funny, how he hadn't felt thát when they kissed.

"Oh thank God." She breathed, hugging him closely again. Thomas looked around, trying to process what was going on, as the woman he loved hugged him like he had just come back from the dead; "Thank God, thank God, you're awake."

"I… am glad to see you too, Ash?" He tried. Why was she so relived he was awake?

"I thought… God, I thought… when we couldn't find you, I…" She stammered, pressing the words out through tears. He did his best to comfort her, but as he really had no idea what the cause of her distress was, it was less than easy.

"I'm here. It's okay. I'm here, Ash." He tried, nudging the top of her head with his chin, his head being about the only part he could move right now. As he looked around, the fact that he wasn't on the Normandy, came back to him; "Ehm… where am I?"

Ashley pulled a little away from him, which wasn't as nice as before, because now he missed her warmth and the feeling of her body against his. She looked at him with mild surprise, though her eyes still radiated with both distress and immense relief.

"You… we're on a… after the attack, the Blue Suns…" She started.

"We were attacked by the Suns?" Thomas exclaimed. Last thing he had heard, the Suns had pretty much turned good-guy vigilantes. Why would they attack the Normandy-crew? Or, was it an attack on _him_ personally? He hadn't killed any Suns mercs yet, had he? Honestly he couldn't remember. Maybe the Suns had been paid by Cerberus to kill him, as revenge for ruining their operation on Pragia?

"What? What, no I… you don't remember?" Ashley managed to stammer, confusion clear in her voice. What was he supposed to remember? The last thing he remembered… oddly enough, he _couldn't _remember what the last thing he remembered was.

"I… no?" He tried, feeling a slight throbbing in his head as he spoke, as well as a severe case of parcel-throat. Ashley looked more than a little disturbed for a moment, then looked at him with the saddest eyes he had seen since… actually, he couldn't remember having _ever_ seen her thís sad before, and it looked more like sympathy than anything else. _Oh gods! Who's dead!?_

"Three days ago, the Normandy was attacked by… Jane called them Collectors, or said she suspected it was who'd done it. We were completely overwhelmed, and the Normandy was lost." Ashley spoke slowly, as if he was mentally incapacitated. In a way, he supposed he was, as an attack on the Normandy was clearly something he ought to remember.

"What?" Was all he managed to utter, fear rising in his mind. There were so many questions flying through his head now, that he started feeling dizzy; "How… how…who…"

"You were somewhere near the bridge, I think, when it happened. Joker said you forced him into one of the pods right before the ship itself was cut in half…" As Ashley spoke, Thomas started adding two and two together. If _he_ had been the one to save Joker, then both Shepards had survived. _YES! YES! Fuck yes!_

His smile faltered though, as Ashley remained somber, and a cold, icy feeling crawled up his spine.

"Thomas…"

"Ash… who…" He whispered, fearing any response that would mean he had failed.

"We lost John…" She said with teary eyes; "He's dead."


	2. The face of a merc

**Well, here's chapter two.**

**As you might have guessed, Omega will be for the Magnus-arch what the Normandy in Book 1 was for Thomas.**

* * *

**The face of a merc**

* * *

December 24th

BSV Guardian Angel.

Medical facility, deck 2.

12:27

Thomas stared at Ashley, his mind repelling the very idea that she had just said what he believed she had said. There was no way… there was just no way.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to deny what she said, wanted to call Ashley a liar. He wanted, ever so desperately, to make it all a lie.

"…What?" In the end, was all he managed to press out. He could feel his throat constrict, dry as parchment as his eyes watered and his jaw trembled, along with his entire body. The bed no longer felt soft or comfortable, but now rather stiff, hot, unwelcoming and utterly _undeserved_. Why… why was he alive, and lying in a bed, when he had so catastrophically failed the people he had sworn to protect, failed the man he had sworn to save, failed the friend who had, in his last moments, relied on _him_ for salvation?

"I'm sorry…"

"…I…" He tried speaking, moving his mouth, but with no sound leaving him. His vision went to hell, blurred by tears that started streaming down his face. A gash in his cheek started stinging from the salty liquid, but it was numbed by the sheer, and raw emotional pain that was washing over him, threatening to all but stop his heart from beating. His breath hitched and became thick as he struggled to process what she had told him. _No! No! No! Please gods, No!_

Ashley hugged him again, pressing him to her body as her own breathing hitched and tears flowed from her face and onto his. He numbly returned the embrace, feeling at least a small gratitude that she had survived in the end. The pain from the loss was still much too horrible to contain, and in the embrace of the woman, Thomas wept for the friend he had lost.

* * *

13:41

BSV Guardian Angel

Cantina, Deck 1

"So… let me see if I got this right, Captain." The human Suns commander, Freest Depal said, looking between Jane and the datapad he had used to write down her debriefing. Jane had allowed it, for more than just the reason of gratitude towards the merc. She also needed to make sure she remembered ever detail for when they returned to Arcturus. She nodded, allowing him to continue;

"You were scouting out the Amada-system, looking for signs of disappeared ships, ten to be precise. At approximately half an hour after you entered the system, your ship was, while in stealth, ambushed by forces unknown." Jane nodded; "Following a failed attempt at escaping, your ship, the SSV Normandy, was destroyed by said forces. Notable lost personnel was the commander of the Normandy, the Quarian John'Shepard."

"Yes. Chief Fisher attempted to recover the commander by going after him into space, though he was unsuccessful in this, and we nearly lost him as well." Jane said, maintaining a calm and professional voice. The Suns commander scratched his chin;

"Fisher… is he a biotic?"

"No, not that any tests have ever shown or revealed." Jane said, shaking her head.

"You said earlier that he was suspended in a form of biotic stasis?" The man said, highlighting that particular section of their former conversation.

"True, and we have no idea how. It doesn't help that, according to Chief Williams, Fisher suffers from short-term amnesia, likely caused by a knock to the head during the attack."

"Well… John'Shepard was a known biotic. Could he have done it, to protect Fisher?"

"I don't know. I've never seen John to be capable of creating a stasis field, but aside from that, I really… sorry, it's… a lot has happened. Some of my crew is harder hit than others." Tali'Zorah, she knew, was ranking in the top of those. Jane felt for the girl, and did her best to be there for her, even though she had an inkling that being alone was probably what Tali preferred for the moment.

"I understand. Losing a ship, as well as valued friends, is never easy." Freest Depal muttered, standing. As Jane did the same, Depal nodded; "You, as well as your crew, can take the rest of the day to cope. We should arrive at Arcturus in about nine hours, where you will disembark and we will return to our duties."

"Thank you, Commander. I never would have thought… I appreciate it, we all do." Depal gave a weak smile at her halted sentence;

"You never thought a mercenary would stop to help those in need?"

"I didn't say…" Jane tried, flustered. Damn it, why did she have to fuck everything she did up? First she lost the ship, then John, and now she had insulted the man who had saved their asses?

"Before the revolution, you'd have probably been right. The Suns are different now, though, and if I can ask any payment off you, it is that you tell this to your superiors. Improved rep or not, we are still seen as criminals by many. Good day, Captain." Depal said, nodded and then left Jane to her own devices. At the moment, those devices involved simply slumping back down on the chair, head in her hands and eyes closed.

"Why… why, why, why…" She muttered to herself, tired from the last few days and what they had brought.

The Suns had agreed to take them to Arcturus, but only after the Guardian Angel had made a stop at Omega, of all places, to drop something, or someone off. Despite his friendly and polite manners, Freest had been adamant that no non-Blue Sun had seen what they were unloading, and as such the entire surviving Normandy crew had been allocated as far away from the hangar and any windows turned towards the station. And now, here she sat, alone in a cantina made by Turians, bought by mercs and captained by a 'criminal'.

What _was_ a criminal anyway? Criminals broke the law, that was easy to remember. But… Spectres broke the law all the time, and lots of companies broke the law all the time. These mercs… God, she used to hate mercs with every fiber in her body. Once, she had taken joy in executing pirates and mercs without even giving those actions any second thoughts. It had all been so much easier back then. Now?

Now she owed her life, the lives of her entire crew, to a ship owned by mercs.

"If this is some sort of joke… I'm still waiting for the punchline…" Jane muttered to herself, resting her forehead on the cold surface of the metal table, so alike the tables they had had on the Normandy. _Right… and I lost the Normandy…and John… _

"Jane?" A familiar, soft voice spoke. Jane didn't bother looking up, as she would recognize the gentle tones of Kaidan anywhere and at all times. He was a constant in her life, both the former and this one, and as long as he was around, she had the feeling that things at least had a boundary they couldn't cross to get even more shitty.

Didn't mean she even considered raising her forehead from the cool, comfortable table though. She would have loved some alcohol right about now, preferably whisky. As Kaidan sat down in the chair next to hers, she listened to his even and calm breathing, allowing it to grant her a sort of calm that nothing else seemed capable of giving.

It was… nice.

"How are you holding up?" Kaidan asked after a few minutes of silence.

"Just dandy. You?" She muttered, straining to make her right eye see him without having to move her head, thus losing the nice, hard and cool surface of the table. Kaidan sighed and leaned back, probably looking at the ceiling or something. She didn't really care.

"I'm alive. Wish I could say the same about some other people, but there really was nothing we could have done." He said after a moment of silence. Jane pressed her eyes shut, feeling like the lowest piece of slime that she hadn't bothered telling him about Thomas's warning. Far as she knew, the only person who had known was Joker. _Because I didn't want unnecessary panic… fuck my sense of logic with a cactus…_

"Maybe…" Was all she said. What _could_ she say? Was this what Thomas felt whenever he had to spill some terrible secrets? Was this what the kid felt when he had to keep said secret from his friends? If so, she pitied the guy, and started gaining far more personal respect for him than she ever had before.

"Jane… Captain. You did your best, no matter the outcome. There was nothing you, or I, or anyone could have done that could have saved the people we lost. Adams was… he was a good man, really good. Even Wrex seemed to like him, you know." Kaidan tried a chuckle, but it came out as a weak cough instead. Jane knew he was steering around the subject of John.

"He was…I just never… Kaidan, why… why?" She groaned, forcing her eyes shut for fear that her tears would burst out. A comforting and familiar hand was placed on her shoulder, and she found herself suddenly leaning against the lieutenant who had been a comforting presence in her life for… years, at least.

"The universe can be a cruel place, Jane. Friends die, family die, loved ones die… All we can do is try to make the galaxy a brighter place before we leave." Jane shuddered as he spoke the words 'family', as it reminded her, forced her to remember the fateful day back on Mindoir, where her entire world had crumbled under the unforgiving and merciless boot of Batarian slavers.

She winced as he spoke the words 'loved ones' as it forced her mind back to every moment she had spent with Magnus since the day they had met, and till the day he was gunned down on the Citadel.

"I don't…know, if… Kaidan, _how_ do I make it brighter?" She was now fully leaning against him, not caring if anyone saw them. Her hair was a mess as her head rested on his chest and he held her, not unlike how one would hold a sad child.

"You just do the best you can, Jane." He said, every tone in his words radiating confidence and trust in her, in her personality and her abilities as a leader.

She wasn't so sure she believed him.

* * *

December 24th

Omega, Sahrabarik system.

"Docking bay" 0005

"Ah, _Omega_. The city of light and love and expensive croissants… no wait, that's Paris…" Magnus laughed to himself as he and the rest of the sixty Blue Suns emerged from the docked BSV Scorpio, having locked and secured the vessel with enough codes and gadgets to keep out a hyperactive Salarian, if need be.

"Just call it the anus of the galaxy. Is what I do when I came here the last time." Tuara replied, sauntering through the "docking bay" they used for the frigate. Calling it a docking bay was doing it more credit than calling a female Krogan 'sexy'. The dock was a hole carved into the station, then fitted with a pressure-room for depressurization and an airlock. If something broke on it, the entire immediate ward or block would be sucked into the vacuum of space. Not really the nicest way to go.

"What's the matter, Tatra? Don't like the smell of the galaxy's collective doodie shoved into a single station?" Hayfield asked from behind as he pulled the cart of their accumulated equipment. The Suns were like every other military in the regard that they had to pull their stuff around either by cart, or like the Eclipse favored, by mech. The public usually never saw this, and probably just though they carried around disassembled mechs in their pockets.

"Hey, I grew up in lower Cipritine. I _lived_ this shit every day, 'cept we had an atmosphere, and less of those crawly thingies." The Turian woman protested as she tapped her sidearm, just to be sure it hadn't already been stolen. Weapons were stolen faster than a Salarian could blink on Omega, but oddly enough, cars and vehicles were left pretty much alone.

"Spiders?"

"Those, yeah. Whatever sick mind thought to invent those fuckers in their evolution, should have my foot up his ass." Tuara growled. Magnus resisted a laugh that would likely have earned him a kick over the shin from said Turian. Next to him, Lantar shook his head in an exasperated sigh.

"You know, Darwin might get a little sad that you don't like his theories."

"Who's Darvin?" Tuara asked, looking back at Magnus. He himself was hauling his own weapons, plus the compressed barrels for a mounted 30calliber 'Firestarter' minigun. Thing was heavy as hell, and he was only carrying the barrels.

"Charles Darwin" Sidonis said; "…was the first human to fully realize and theorize the evolution of organic life on the human homeworld, back in their date of 1859. He theorized that every single species and race of animal on their planet had evolved to suit the needs of their respective environments. At that time, mind you, most humans firmly believed that a creator God had designed everything right from the beginning, which was a belief Darwin somewhat shattered with his… Book? He published a text he dubbed 'The Origin of species', that even to this date, multiple scholars throughout the galaxy refer to."

As Lantar stopped, Magnus stared at him in wide-eyes amazement, which was a rare thing for him to do. Never had he though the Turian's knowledge of humans extended _that_ far and wide. Hell, he himself hadn't known half the shit Lantar just said.

"…What's that got to do with spiders?" Tuara asked after a moment of silence. Magnus smacked his helmet's forehead, making sure the Turian medic both heard and saw him do it.

As the crew advanced through the station, headed for the outpost belonging to the Blue Suns, Magnus started noticing aspects of the station, and more importantly its inhabitants, that seemed far more… gloomy, than it had back when he had seen it the first time. Of course, back then it had all been digital. The real life version always was more… well, 'gloomy' really was the best word for it.

People were lying in the streets, sitting in the corners with little signs spelling out pleas for food, medicine of just general humanitarian compassion. Apparently, those were sort of "out of stock" on the station. He idly wondered if Aria was just slouching back in her comfy sofa, watching _her_ people as they suffered. Honestly, he really wouldn't put it past the Asari to do just thát.

He saw a Batarian, hardly older than ten human years, stripping a corpse for anything valuable. The body was another Batarian, probably a woman, judging by the torn bra that failed to cover her chest completely. Prostitution was a common enough sight that he never really noticed it before. Though seeing a child rob a dead prostitute… Omega really was the "Rectum of the Galaxy" that people called it.

After hours of walking, bypassing checkpoints held by Aria's men, the group reached what amounted to the "border" between Arian's land and that of the Blue Suns. As they were cleared and passed the heavily armed guards, all of them humans. He would have wondered why that was, if he actually cared. For the moment though, he was simply downright tired of hauling and waiting, feeling like thát one kid in the airport that everyone wanted to knock unconscious with a tire iron, but no one really bothered getting close enough to.

The difference when they finally entered Blue Suns territory, was rather astonishing compared to what he had seen of Omega thus far.

There were no dead or dying people littering the streets, for one. Instead, there seemed to be the rule that if you could work, you worked and the Suns gave you shelter. Rather pragmatic, maybe, but more reasonable than just dumping people on the streets.

The second thing he noticed, was that most houses, if one could describe the buildings as such, seemed to have power and were somewhat kept, even though they still looked like something from Fallout. They were all made from scrap, or simply metal that had long-since rusted brown. He even saw an actual prefabricated building, supposed to sit on the surface of a planet, welded to the wall above another home, with a ladder extending. _So this is what Quarians must feel like on the Flotilla…_

The third thing he noticed, and what really both surprised him and yet didn't, was the fact that Batarians were walking freely around, living their lives with little to no visible constrictions. He saw no Batarians in armor, which would have completely confused him, but he was still amazed that the Batarians, the species that had been ethnically cleansed from the organization, seemed so… well, 'peaceful' seemed a good word for it. The only thing they seemed to do for the Suns, was repairing buildings and non-essential equipment for the community, such as refiners and pumps for the water.

"Hey, what gives with the Four-eyes?" Magnus asked Lantar as they walked side by side, subjected to the rather curious looks of the surroundings. If the turian raised a brow beneath the helmet, Magnus had no idea.

"We wiped them from the organization. Doesn't mean we have to slaughter every one we see, Magnus."

"Oh… right, of… I just figured… Never mind." He muttered as he looked around. There were a few squads of Suns patrolling the streets, weapons loaded and ready for trouble. The residents around him seemed better off than what he'd see anywhere else on Omega, but still piss-poor compared to places like Elysium or the Citadel, or Hel, just Arcturus; "So… what'd they do here?"

"Pretty much what everyone else does, I suspect. They've lived here since before the formation of the Suns, so we're pretty much just a police-force here." The Turian shrugged. Magnus noted that there still was an air of sadness about Lantar, but decided not to comment on it. He knew enough that losing friends tended to hurt for a while.

"Right… so, no hostilities? No bad feelings?" He asked.

"Bound to be some, of course. Mind you, not everywhere had the same bloodbaths as Zorya. Not Omega, but some places simply sacked the Batarian Suns. I figure there was some pissed people there, but grateful when they heard what happened at HQ."

"Right…" Magnus muttered as their group came to a stop in a plaza-like section of the territory. Tara was at the lead, along with Navigator Velan Harius, presenting a surprisingly professional front towards the rest of the place. Professional or not though, Magnus snickered to himself, noticing how Tara's armor failed to conceal her more than generously shaped hips.

Approaching the formation of Scorpio's troopers, was a trio of Suns, none of them regulars from the looks of it. Two of them were Turians, clad in heavy armor and with holographic armor on top of it too, both toting every kind of weapons capable of being carried by a single person. Leading them was a woman, helmet on and presenting an almost menacing appearance to those looking at her. Her hip sported a pair of pistols, Carnifex's from what Magnus could see, as well as a monomolecular katana-blade on her left hip. _Damn… what is it with women and being deadly?_

As the trio of obvious high-ups stopped in front of Tara's formation, both sides snapped to a salute, one that the entirety of the formation mirrored, if not with military precision.

"Captain Tara'Velan vas Scorpio nar Qwib Qwib, reporting with reinforcements and supplies per requested orders." Tara said in one breath, giving Magnus yet another reason he never wanted to be an officer. Having to remember that whole mouth-off in one go? No way.

"Commander Jentha Haruno, Omega Blue Suns, 2nd Battalion." The woman said. She then, to Magnus's great surprise, removed her helmet with a hiss, and revealed the face of a young woman, possibly no older than her late twenties. Her hair, colored to be a dark red, closing on downright purple, fell down to her cheeks and stopped just where her armor began at the start of the neck. Adding even more surprise, Jentha smiled broadly at Tara; "It's good to see you, Captain Velan."

"Likewise, Commander." Tara replied, grasping the commander's extended hand in a tight grasp. _Well… I suppose I really should stop being surprised these days…_

Sure, Tara had told him that she knew _a _Jentha on Omega, but Magnus had never really imagined that it was the same Jentha that he had seen so many years back. Sure, back then it had all been digital, but faces were easy to recognize, and this was the same damned woman he had seen back then. _I guess this means I won't have to end up shooting her? Cool._

The Scorpion's crew was then directed to one of the barracks, a repurposed community center that had been outfitted with make-do walls and added rooms to accommodate a small army of troopers. A group of logisticians directed the crew to their own section of the building, granting at least the privacy of being with people you were somewhat familiar with. Magnus dumped his duffel-bag onto a bed that was of considerably lower quality than what he had gotten used to on Zorya. It was still better than what he had expected from Omega though, and he knew that he really should be, and was, grateful that there even was a bed at all. Thát done, he positioned the barrels for the 'Fire starter' machinegun across his back and went to find where to dump the piece of tech.

Even when wearing his armor, carrying around a sixty-kilo six-barrel part of a heavy weapon, took its toll on him. Still, no point in complaining, or he'd sure as hell not have made it thís far. As he made his way to the armory where he suspected he could drop off the thing, Magnus started taking the chance to look around more as he went.

Here and there, true, he saw signs of poverty and famine, decline in health and such problems. But, compared to the rest of Omega, the places run by the Suns really seemed far better off. There had to be some sort of secret that was known only to the Blue Suns, since they were the only ones who actually managed to get their shit together on what amounted to the disease-ridden asshole of the civilized galaxy.

Despite all the shit that had gone down, especially with the Batarian Suns, he saw civilians and mercs working together, repairing buildings, maintaining equipment and more. A fact that struck him was that he even saw Batarians, though not as many as the others, work with the Suns. As Lantar had said, they lived there too.

The barracks were just one of countless buildings arrayed around the central plaza, giving a very 'P'-like shape to the immediate compound. The plaza itself was not very big, but then again, what was on a station made up of shit and scrap? It was big enough that running across it would make him winded when carrying the parts, so instead a leisurely stroll was both called for and appreciated. Granted, it was a stroll carrying a piece of a weapon that could turn an YMIR-mech into scrap, but who really cared?

Okay, maybe the guys who were going to be using it…

The Armory itself was rather well organized, as something supplying well over hundreds of men needed to be. Magnus had no idea what the place had been before, but the flickering holographic image of a knife that went up and down in a swooping manner, made him guess at either a barbershop, or a butcher. _Except if it's Sweeny Todd, then it's both in one hat._

Long rows were organized for different types of weapons, with countless stands for low-grade Avenger rifles filling out the better part of the place, while Vindicators, Mattocks and a few Turian Phaestons were available as well. It was, as he had expected, mostly rifles, though there was no shortage of shotguns and sub-machineguns either. He saw no pistols, but then again, who among them didn't have their own sidearm already?

As he walked the corridors, eyes sweeping the many weapons on display, he could feel the same sort of childish glee he had felt when the Alliance Marines had issued him his very first Avenger, way back in the day.

His fingers, on the hand not holding the strap for the oversized barrels, tentatively danced over the surfaces of a Mattock, admiring the fact that it had clearly been repaired from a state of absolute scrap, to a condition that was close to pristine, if one looked away from the multiple scars and scrapes on its surface.

"Can I help you?" A filtered voice asked, causing Magnus to snap around fast enough that he managed to tear the gun from its place. _Oh fuck! _

"Damn! Sorry, I'll just… right… there." Magnus actually found himself stuttering as he fumbled with getting the weapon back in place. The speaker was a Quarian, who was now looking at him with hands on his hips, looking almost bossy-like.

"It's fine. Mattocks can take being shot at, a bump won't ruin it." The Quarian said, looking like he was sizing Magnus up for something; "You're one of the new guys, right? Just came in?"

"I am… how did…"

"People new to Omega always have the same way of walking. I've been here since my pilgrimage started, so I should know." The Quarian said, gesturing for Magnus to hand him the barrels for the gun; "You're from the Scorpio, aren't you? Straight from Zorya?"

"Seriously, do I have it spelled on my helmet or something?" Magnus asked, scratching to remove any painted letters on his head that would spell 'FNG From Zorya'. He followed as the unnamed Quarian carried the piece of armament into what almost looked like a shop of some sort. There was a sign next to the Quarian's bench, spelling 'Kenn'Tol nar Idenna'. _So… this is Kenn? Figures really, I get to meet everybody… who's next, Mordin?_

"Not really, no. Anyway, thanks for bringing this thing over. Need to get the gun up and running, sooner rather than later actually." Kenn said, immediately getting to work at assembling the heavy weapon all on his own. Magnus watched in stupefied awe as he witnessed just why Quarians were known as the best mechanics and engineers in the galaxy.

What would have taken his own species at least a team, plus machines to assemble, this one Quarian did on his own in less than fifteen minutes, finally standing back to examine his work with a satisfied nod.

"So… that was… Why do you need it working as soon as possible?" Magnus asked, finding that it would be beyond stupid to start commenting on what this guy probably did on a daily basis. Kenn shrugged as he ran his Omnitool over the weapon, now looking like something that ate Krogans for lunch.

"Blood Pack's been pressing the guys lately. They probably figures us easy targets now, what with the Batarian troopers either dead or sacked, and those sacked mostly went to join either Aria or the blood Pack itself. For some reason, Eclipse doesn't take them either." The way Kenn spoke, betrayed the fact that he had seen more than a kid his age should, and probably been through more shit than Magnus before his time in the Alliance Navy.

"So… we essentially dropped into a war-zone?" Magnus asked. At Kenn's rather casual nod and shrug, he just sighed; "Figures… well, at least it's just Vorcha and Krogan. Shouldn't be too much of a problem."

"And Varren too. Nasty things, like to tear into everything and have disease-ridden teeth. Lost a lot of people to infected bites, from what I've heard." Kenn seemed to repress a shudder. Magnus grinned beneath his helmet. The last time he had encountered Varren had been on Feros, where he had planted his shotgun in the mouth of a Varren Alpha pack leader. Things weren't really that much different from the wolves of Earth, 'cept they lacked fur and had bigger teeth.

Also wolves were a lot more adorable than Varren. Magnus was about to press on the subject when his comms buzzed;

"Magnus, rally at the central plaza in five. Arm and armor up, we're joining the fight here. Any chance you can bring some heavy weapons from the armory?" Tara said. Magnus smiled at hearing her voice, a blissful sound in this shithole they called Omega. Fitting name really, as a lot of things met their end here.

"Got that, Tara. Would a Krogan-eating minigun do the trick?" Even talking to her over the comms made him grin.

"Good, yes that'll be needed. Bring the thing here, I'll have someone bring your rifle. Are you wearing your armor?"

"Kinky phone-games have to wait, Tara." He smirked, almost laughing when he heard her stuttering on her end of the link; "Yeah I am. Will bring the weapon."

"See you there." Tara stuttered, then cut the link. It was obvious he had hit a soft spot there, and by Frey, he savored it. Tara was at her cutest when he made her stutter or fumble. He turned towards Kenn who looked at him. _Well, where else would he look?_

"Well, nice meeting' you Kenn. You mind if I steal this thing away?"

"Where to?" Kenn asked, suddenly growing a little hesitant about letting something he had repaired just leave the place.

"Captain Velan says we need something with a punch. Can I-"

"Velan? Tara'Velan nar Qwib Qwib?!" Kenn exclaimed, stopping himself from stepping right into Magnus' face.

"…Yeah?"

"Then… then yes, yes, yes of course. Yes, I'll have it brought to- I'll bring- I mean… do you need help carrying it?" The kid, and he really was a kid, was literally beaming behind his visor. Magnus couldn't help the laugh that escaped him;

"No, no I think I've got it." He laughed, slowly remembering what Tara had told him of her first time on Omega, of how she had saved another Quarian from some thugs; "Say, you wouldn't happen to be the scrawny pilgrim Tara got out of a situation a few…"

"A year and a half ago? Yes, yes, I am. Tara stopped a pair of Batarians from robbing me of everything. I still think Harrot's the one who hired them, but on Omega… well, anyway. Could you… you know, say hi from me?" Kenn's voice had grown increasingly frail and nervous, like he was a small child talking to one of those Goofy-costumed geeks in Disneyland.

"Sure, why not. I'm going there anyway." He said, then glanced at the mounted gun; "You ehm… wouldn't happen to have a cart for that thing?"

A few minutes later, notably _after_ he was supposed to have been at the rally, Magnus reached the central plaza, dragging a 'Fire Starter' heavy machinegun, capable of ripping apart just about anything in its way. He'd seen these things mounted on Jeeps before, though not as a stationary weapon. Then again, there was a first time for everything.

The rest of the crew hadn't waited for him to show up, though Lantar tossed him his rifle and shotgun. Magnus already carried his sidearm on him. On Omega, you didn't simply walk around without a gun. A thing Magnus noticed as he stood with the rest of them, trying to catch the end of the briefing from a dry Turian, was that there was a lot more activity in the plaza than had been just before.  
Troops were jogging around in formations, civilians were either making themselves scarce or stopping what they were doing in order to watch the troopers march by. There were several mechs walking around as well, as Omega wasn't the most wheel-friendly station. He honestly wasn't surprised to see that most of the mechs were Firebats, what with the Hellhound-class being far better suited to deal with Vorcha.

The term 'Kill it with fire' got a completely new meaning when your enemy could regenerate a blown-off leg.

"…at the barricades. Velan, your men will be making sure the Vorcha aren't getting at us through the sewers. A point of entry into the systems has been uploaded to your Omnitool. Now make ready, the Blood Pack is mounting up."

There was a chorus of affirmatives from the groups listening to the briefing. The group under Tara's command started moving out, and Magnus found himself confused as to what the fuck he was supposed to do with the gun. You didn't just bring a heavy machinegun into the sewers of a space station. Ideally, you didn't even bring firearms to a space station _at all_.

"Trooper, leave the mounted weapon here." The turian called. Magnus immediately obeyed, thankful that he was rid of the burden, but sad that he wasn't going to be ripping apart the Vorcha with it. Oh well, plenty of death to be dealing out when your enemy had both numbers and intelligence of rats.

As they reached the entrance to the sewers, Tara turned around to face the sixty-some troops.

"Everyone remembered to waterproof their armor?" There were a few weak chuckles at that. Of course the armor was waterproof, it was even airtight. Didn't change the fact that the water they would be wading through… Magnus shuddered at the thought.

Tara removed the cover, unveiling a regular sewer beneath the manhole. There was a short ladder down, ending in a slowly flowing river of something that was supposed to be restricted to someone's nightmares. Brian Kittles went down as the first, armed with a Firestorm. Having a flamethrower was going to be damned handy down there, but then again, there was the risk of setting gasses alight.

Magnus didn't want his death to be caused by "Burned alive by ignited farts in the anus of the galaxy". That would just be downstraight humiliating.

As the line of troopers submerged themselves into the manhole, Magnus resisted the urge to gag and was thankful for his armor's filtration-systems. He knew right away that this would be a mission he would be hating. Having sixty-odd troopers in a single sewer… so much shit could go down the drain from thát, and it was bound to at some point.

As his boots splashed into the cold muck, he shuddered and gagged at the sound and sensation of the heavy liquid and what was in it, splashing and running between his legs at knee-height. As if that wasn't enough, the only illumination in the tunnel-like pipes of shit were the lights on their helmets.

All else was darkness…

And Magnus _really_ hated the dark…

* * *

**A/N: As you may have noticed, this chapter is a lot shorter than most previous ones. The reason is quite simple really. In long chapters, people tend to forget the start by the time they reach the bottom. Belive me, I do that myself. And it sucks, because so many awesome stories don't get enough reviews because their chapters are too long. One that's been an inspiration to me, por ejemblo, is 'Avatar of Victory'. It's the single most badass Avatar/Mass Effect crossover ever done by human hands, yet only has 300-some reviews. James Golen is a badass writer, and I know I shouldn't be highlighting "competitors" in this story, but he simply is an artist.**

**Back to the reason. I've decided to make my chapters shorter, so I can make more of them, and you'll have a chance at remembering what actually happened in them. So, theoretically, everyone wins.**

**Next chapter will reunite us with Kasumi, but for now, I just wanted to make an update on what Magnus was foolin' around and doing.**

**Also, as you may have noticed, MC won the contest and will appear in this story. Possibly as a crewmember, possibly as a xeno-hating supser-soldier, possibly as a janitor. Who knows? ...Well, okay, _I_ know, but that would just be spoiling, wouldn't it?**


	3. Through shit and blood

**Well, well, well... I do believe it is time for a new chapter. Just as I mentioned at the start, these chapters are out at a faster rate than the longer ones. This one is just half the original length, meaning 5k instead of 10, and 10 pages instead of 19-20... damn, each chapter actually used to be about 20 pages long... time that with 83 chapters... Fek me, Book 1 was longer than I thought.**

**This time: Sit-Rep on Arcturus, Kasumi wishes Merry Christmas and Magnus walks through a river of shit in the sewers.**

* * *

**Through Shit and Blood**

* * *

December 24th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

20:14

"Well… Merry Christmas, I guess…" Anna sighed, taking a puff of her cigar. Usually, she was adamant against smoking, and she knew that smoking killed. Hell, she'd even made Zaeed quit his cigars… yet, current events required more than booze. This was something she couldn't just drink away.

Smoke filled her lungs, granting her a calm and peace she usually had a hard time finding otherwise. Maybe Zaeed had been right when he said smoking was good for the nerves, contrary to all scientific evidence.

"Wasn't aware there was much of an occasion." Price said, relaxing in his holographic chair. It was funny, Anna thought, that he had become more of a colleague and less of a tool since the day Kasumi fished him out of God knows where; "Still, Merry Christmas, Admiral."

"Yeah… When's the Cruiser scheduled?"

"In just over an hour." She looked at Price while he spoke, once more marveling at the level of technology that had gone into… creating him. They both knew and accepted that he was a computer, and yet there was something so inanely human about him.

"We got the medics ready?" She asked, chewing on the wet part of her cigar. Price nodded from his chair, a worried expression on his gruff face.

"Five teams of paramedics, doctors and nurses are standing by near the docks." He said, then added after a short pause; "It's never easy, is it?"

"Losing a piss-expensive ship never is…" She muttered, unwilling to accept the fact that she knew he wasn't just talking about the ship.

"Admiral…"

"What?" She asked, giving him a flat, annoyed look out the corner of her eye. Price was chewing his own cigar, though it didn't give out any semblance of smoke outside the projection. He looked like he wanted to say more, but kept silent instead.

"So… any updates on Projects Goto or Relay, for that matter?" She finally asked after a few minutes of awkward silence. Price didn't move, likely because he was going through some memory banks or something like that. Anna knew how most tech worked, but Price was still beyond her, hence why she had an easier time seeing him as a colleague than a machine.

"Kasumi Goto hasn't reported back in more than a week. I'll assume it is due to her mission having escalated, or just having fun. I don't bloody care really, but I'm keeping tabs on that boy of hers…"

"Keji Okuda?" Anna raised a brow, trying to remember the deal with Kasumi. Hard to, really, when semi-drunk and smoking.

"Right. Highly secured mansion in Florida for the duration of Miss Goto's employ. Most of the neighbors are undercover agents, and there's a camera in every tree." Price recounted; "In the case of, say, them having it out in the garden, the cameras are monitored by VI's instructed to delete those sections."

"Privacy and all…" Anna let out an unkind chuckle. Privacy, when everyone should be pissing till their shoes were soaked for fear of the Reapers. Instead, it was all censoring vids and banging your head against a political wall of titanium.

She missed the hype there had been during what was now known as 'The Incursion'. At least when Saren was a known face, she had a cause to rally people, guns and money behind. For fuck's sake, she'd gotten the Quarians into the Systems Alliance, but everyone gave the Alliance Parliament and Alliance Director all the credit.

Fucking politicians and their fucking Medias.

The only thing she needed now, to make the evening utterly _fantastic_, would be for Kasumi Goto to show up with a written declaration of war against the Milky Way, because the Andromeda Galaxy decided she was too big a pest. As she bit down hard enough to chew off a piece of her cigar, Anna failed to hear the sound of her office doors open.

Price noticed though, but only sighed when he saw who it was.

"Heya." Anna was mildly freaked out by the sudden newcomer. Still, the voice was easy to recognize.

"Kasumi… back to celebrate Xmass with your boy-toy?" Anna bit her off. Kasumi didn't seem particularly perturbed though, and simply flopped down on Anna's desk, lying on her back as she observed the somewhat drunk Admiral.

"Well, that too. I'll tell ya, it's Hell to figure out the time between here and there." The petite woman said; "Hi, Price. Nice seeing you finally put your legs up."

"How'd you know? Last time you were around, I was in my disk." To which Kasumi just smirked, like a child, in Anna's eyes.

"Weeeeeeeell… I might or might not have snuck in here while you had the meeting with those Quarians. Left again though, dreadfully boring." She made an effort of putting pressure on 'dreadfully', which served to annoy Anna even more. It wasn't Kasumi's fault, she knew, but unless the thief/ambassador had good news, Anna wasn't in the mood.

"What're you here for, then?" The Admiral said through her cigar. Kasumi looked mildly surprised, all of a sudden.

"You've started smoking?"

"Had to. Booze didn't cover enough ground. Is all tobacco, though. No funny stuff while I'm working…" Price gave a grunt of disbelief at that;

"When the hell _aren't _you working?"

"When I'm dead." Anna shot him down, then refocused on Kasumi, seeing as the girl was still using the desk as a couch; "Why are you here? Situation changed?"

"Weeeeeeeell… sort of. Don't worry, don't worry, I've got it under control. Geez, me a politician. Keji'd laugh his ass off if he saw the costume they forced me to wear through my first time in the senate."

"…Kasumi. Point of visit? Report?" Anna deadpanned, giving the girl a flat look.

"Right. Well, things are really going just great really. I've made a few friends and talked to some people… found out they use slave soldiers for their armies, but that's just another thing I'm trying to deal with." Kasumi kept talking, as apparently she had failed to notice that Anna had bitten clean through the cigar at the mention of 'slave soldiers'.

"Come again?" She said, her tone so low and dark that even the thief scurried down from the desk, expecting a verbal gunshot.

"I've made a few friends, both Jedi, politicians and some soldiers. You should _see_ them. If it wasn't for Keji I…Baka, you meant… Listen, I _fixing_ this, okay?" Kasumi's voice changed to that of an actually mature person.

"You have been there for months… and this… we've given those people _our_ technology, when they are just human versions of the Hegemony?" Anna snarled, the bit-off stump of her cigar landing on the desk with a wet _thud_; "And this is the _first_ time I hear about them using slaves as soldiers?"

"Anna, I am fixing it, okay? It's the politicians who're cranky about giving the clones any rights, not the Jedi. I'm making headway, believe it or not, so at least give me some actual credit here." Kasumi shot back. Price remained in his chair, curious eyes going between the two women as he went over thousands of scenarios with the data he had about this 'Republic'.

"Jesus Fucking _Christ_… first extra-galactic contact and they breed slaves for war… what? Can't we hope for anyone decent out there?"

"Hey chill, okay? 'Sides, I just came back to say Merry Christmas, you know. No reason to start shouting at me for that. By the way, you seem awfully pissy today. Who died?" It was clear that Kasumi's question was a joke, but Anna wasn't in the mood for jokes.

"John'Shepard, apparently. Plus Chief-Engineer Gregory Adams and a few others when the Normandy was reduced to a very expensive chunk of space-scrap." The woman growled, digging a nail into the skin of her palm.

"…Oh" Kasumi muttered, looking down at the floor. Anna didn't bother seeing if the girl was astonished or startled. She just wanted a few more minutes of peace before she had to go down and greet some merc who had picked up the surviving crew; "So… the rumors… your brother?"

"Thomas lived, yeah. So did the rest of the ground crew minus John… I haven't informed any of the Quarian admirals yet, so could you please… rumor?" Anna cut herself off as her mental gears shifted, and she processed the fact that Kasumi had heard a rumor… If Kasumi had heard it…

"Some people in Flights were talking about it." Kasumi muttered. Anna snapped towards Price, who apparently sensed he was needed. The chair vanished and he was standing before the last pixel had gone.

"Price?"

"Already on it. I'm going though channels and breaking off anything mentioning the Normandy. Might as well be you who tell Admiral Raan." The AI said. Anna nodded and sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"Great… I'll have a screaming woman on my case soon anyway. I'm going to the docks to wait for the ship. When you can, contact the mercs and tell them to head for bay L-3."

* * *

Omega, Sahrabarik system

Blue Suns territory, Sewers

18:42

"_Any contacts yet?"_

"Negative. All quiet down here." Tara responded in the comms. Magnus walked right behind her now, keeping his guard up. He _hated_ sewers. He hated sewers, because they were dirty, wet, smelly and most of all, because they were dark. He had the ocular modules that allowed him to see in the dark, but a green-tinted vision was still far from his preferences.

So, instead of focusing on the fact that he was wading through knee-high sludge of undetermined origin and composition, Magnus kept his eyes on something a bit more pleasing, and less professional as well, namely the person in front of him. Tara was carrying her sub-machinegun, the same she had used on Zorya, while her dual heavy pistols were still secured to her hip. Reasonably, her sniper rifle had been left at the base.

Himself, he had simply opted for what he was good at, namely something that killed stuff. A katana was always a good choice, even if it wasn't the most powerful shotgun in existence.

"_Affirmative. There should be a divide coming up on your front. Split the team into two and proceed from there with caution. Also, we're getting reports of a nest nearby. Stay alert, in case the sewers are infested. Haruno, out."_

"Well… that's uplifting." Magnus noted; "What would a nest be?"

"Omega has a lot of feral Vorcha. And I mean _a lot_. Most of the Vorcha used by the Blood Pack are just feral ones pointed the right way." Tara explained. _Great, so we've got zombie-Vorcha?_

"By the way, and this is probably a bad time to mention it, Captain, but I was supposed to say hi from an old friend of yours."

"This is really not the time, Olafur…" Tara muttered, keeping her weapon trained closely above Kittle's shoulder as the man walked at the front, pointing the Firestorm at the imposing darkness. They needed to work together down here, or a swarm of ferals could them all in.

"Got'cha." He knew she was right, and thus accepted to simply keep his mouth shut about anything not related to cleaning the sewers. Aesir, he didn't like the implications of that sentence.

"Captain, we're coming up on the divide." Kittles said from up front, the small flame from his weapon illuminating the tunnel and where it split, rusty walls of metal making up a set of pathways for them to follow.

"Sidonis, take the rearmost thirty troopers and head left. Rest of you, with me to the right." Tara called through the comms. There was no need to produce more noise than they already did, and alert eventual hostiles to their positions.

"Understood. Good luck, Captain." Lantar replied, gesturing for the aforementioned soldiers to follow him. Magnus watched the Turian disappear down the tunnel from the corner of his eye, silently hoping this wouldn't be the last time he saw his comrade. The rest of them moved on, forced to walk in silence and listen to the sounds from around them. Creaking metal, distant howls, dripping and flowing "water", the sound of armored boots moving through sewage, Magnus could even make out distant sounds of gunfire from somewhere above.

The group moved slowly, proceeding at a slow walk as they made their way through the sewer. Rats, of all things and creatures, followed them on the pipes running just above the waterline, small beady eyes watching their progress. While he hated sewers, Magnus didn't mind the rats. More than once, he had been forced to eat the little cretins in order to survive on missions, and as such he knew to look past their rather hideous appearance.

A growl penetrated the stale air.

The growl was followed by more, semi-sentient in sound as they came from creatures some would call sentient beings. Each was like a challenge, a threat of impending death approaching the Suns as they moved on despite them.

"Keep your heads in the game." Tara muttered as the growls became more and more frequent, until at last, it was a choir of hate and death, in front of them, as well as behind them; "Hold here. Prepare for hard contact."

The men and women obeyed, taking up positions in the chokepoint. The sewer was wide enough for two men to pass shoulder to shoulder, and would thus allow for the Suns to hold both directions in case of an attack. An attack which, it seemed, was getting more and more imminent. Kittles remained standing, finger on the trigger of his weapon, prepared to spew forth fire and death. Tara, being right behind the man, gestured for Magnus to move up in front of her. He positioned himself next to Kittles, shotgun ready to bring death to whatever creature would appear.

As he stood solid as the very asteroid, he could feel the belly of Tara's Locust rest on his shoulder, allowing her a more precise and accurate aim. He didn't mind, though it was the first time he had seen thát kind of surface used for support.

"You know, have I ever told you that I don't particularly like sewers?" Magnus asked, trying to break the ice that had frozen over the mood. He really didn't mind striking a conversation while waiting for an enemy charge. Helped lighten the mood, he had found.

"What, afraid of the alligators?" Kittles asked, not looking away from where he pointed the muzzle, even as the howling and growls came closer and rose in intensity. Magnus wagered this was likely why he hated the darkness, but oddly enough, he was nowhere near frightened of having to fight Vorcha. It was when he _couldn't _see his enemies, that he was nervous.

"Fuck off, Kettle. Aim the burns at the bad guys."

"Well, that's one way to… you hear that?" Kittles interrupted himself as a new sound started making its way towards them. Rising above the animalistic howling, the sound of splashes, feet in water, carried through the sewer with an echo.

"That's… a lot of them." Magnus muttered, finger trembling over the trigger. He was starting to feel giddy, once more, at the prospect of finally being able to partake in a turkey-shoot, even if the birds had been replaced by just as ugly mammalian-ish things. Magnus looked behind him, spotting the piss-annoying Turian woman, who also doubled as their medic; "Oi! Tatra! You up for a bet?"

"What about?" She called back, her own shotgun cocked in her more clawed hands.

"Whomever kills the most gets to brag." Though he was shouting to Tuara, he didn't take his eyes from the sewer in front of him. Thank the Aesir for radios.

"Heavy risk, but the priiiize." She chuckled, apparently agreeing. Good, now Magnus just needed to win, and survive, this shit, or he'd be in for an unending period of suffering. Only reason he even came up with the bet was so that _he_ could make _her_ life a living trip to Hel. _If you can't punch 'em, annoy them,_ he thought with a smirk, listening to the splashes and growls coming closer.

"Steady, steady…" Tara's voice came over the comms. Magnus appreciated it, if only because her voice was so unrealistically soothing to his mind. He didn't need the 'steady' part though, as he had been in this spot before. _Though of course, back in Rio, they were muscled hounds, not Vorcha…_

As the first pair of beady eyes, nestled in a hideous skull-like face, came into view, Magnus reconsidered that thought. There was clearly a level of evil in those critters that the dogs of the Favela couldn't quite match. Good thing though, was that the critter was butt-naked, unarmed and unarmored, and was just running towards them with outstretched claws and barred fangs. As it was naked, a few parts were less than attractive to look at._ I did not need to see that, I did not need to see that._

Before the bugger came into reach of Magnus's shotgun, it ended up on the receiving end of a concentrated burst of slugs from Tara's sub-machinegun. More than one went straight into its head, causing one large reptilian eye to explode in orange gore and muck. The thing screeched in agony, but kept running despite the slugs clearly having exited the back of its skull. It wasn't until Kittles put it to the torch, that the creature finally started rolling in the muck, trying to extinguish the flames.

Whatever was in the muck though, was not of a 'quenching' nature, and the liquid seemed to only further the burning of the Vorcha.

"Okay… memo to squad: Don't set the sewer on fire…" Kittles muttered to himself as he checked the level of fuel in his weapon. As the trashing and screaming died down, the group could hear something more disturbing than the single Vorcha trying to kill them.

A whole lot of single Vorcha's trying to kill them.

"You know… I really think that machinegun would have been handy down here…" Magnus muttered to Tara, cocking his shotgun. He had wanted to use incendiary ammunition, and even seeing the way the water reacted with the burning Vorcha didn't make him change his mind. At the same moment, the swarm now came into view, presenting a solid wall of diseased skin and fanged snarls, hateful eyes and sharp claws.

"Less talking, more killing!" Kittles shouted, pulling the trigger on his Firestorm, bathing their front in crimson death.

"Blue Suns!" Tara shouted, joining her own weapon to the fray.

"BLUE SUNS!" The rest of the group echoed in unison, pouring fire at both directions where the Vorcha had tried taking them on both from the front and behind.

The first dozens that made it close enough to present a threat, never made it beyond the reach of the Firestorm, and their lives were burned to a crisp when they were bathed in flaming liquids, the sewer proving to only sustain the flames. Magnus ended up finding himself forced to stare and wait, as Kittles managed to hold the sewer on his own. He knew it wouldn't last though, as the Firestorm didn't carry an unlimited amount of fuel, and soon would run dry.

Almost as if on cue, the flames stopped pouring forth, revealing a carpet of charred bodies and writhing forms just a few meters in front of them. Seeing as the Vorcha wasted no time trampling their dead and dying, neither did the Suns, and Magnus opened up by ripping the head clean off the shoulders of a Vorcha that came just too close.

"Regenerate from thát one!"

Next to him, Kittles had switched to his own shotgun, and was now blasting away with a katana, removing heads, torsos and legs with clumsy, but lethal effectiveness. It was clear that he was used to fighting from inside a cockpit, but that he still at least knew how to handle himself. Behind him, Tara fired burst after burst at the advancing horde, though unsuccessful in killing them with the weapon, she could slow them down sufficiently for the others to finish off.

At a point, her Locust started screaming in protest, and instead of waiting for it to cool down, Tara simply switched to her sidearms, pulling out the heavy pistols with a manner not all that different from what he remembered in the Matrix Series. She held her arms straight and calmly, fingers squeezing off repeated shots that, while each was not worth much, in the rapid firing cut a path through the heads and bodies of the Vorcha outside range of the shotguns.

Magnus found himself snickering at her visage, the bloodthirsty heroine that could kill and kill, relentless, yet compassionate and beyond hot in figure. The cost of his divided attention was made known when one of the Vorcha got close enough to swipe at his head, claws scratching the surface of his helmet. With an angry, and surprised grunt, Magnus kicked the Vorcha's knee in, then blasted its head clean off its shoulders, causing the nearby ferals to cry out in rage.

"Yeaaah! Cry some more!" He yelled, pumping out spreads of slugs into the mass of Vorcha that had yet to get close. Shotguns were remarkably effective at keeping what was essentially space-zombies away. Magnus was laughing as he continued pumping shots into the masses of enemies, and all fear of the darkness was forgotten, replaced by the old, familiar glee that came with taking a life. _Like this, things are easy as pie!_

Magnus' sadistic chuckle as he blew the face from a Vorcha, was interrupted by the sound of his gun overheating. Outside his helmet, one wouldn't be able to hear it over the constant firing of dozens of weapons, including Tara's dual Predators. _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

As there was no time to drop the gun, nor pull a sidearm, Magnus was forced to defend himself against a fresh attack by blocking a clawed swipe with his shotgun, resulting in the Vorcha trying to tear it from his grip. _Yeah. You'd like that, wouldn't you?_

He hit the Vorcha in the face with the stock of his weapon, then kicked the creature in the chest, sending it staggering into the Vorcha behind it. Magnus instantly tried firing the Katana, but found it to still be cooling down._ Great… means I'm going to get physical here._

Keeping the shotgun handled like a club in his right hand, Magnus activated his Omnitool on the left arm, clenched his fist for the CQC-command, and watched as the flash-forced heat-knife, or Omniblade as some called it, grew from his upper wrist, folding outwards like the arm of a watch.

Perhaps fearing a new wave of flames, the Vorcha paused for a moment, beady eyes glaring at his arm, processing the new source of light. Even as they seemed to come to the conclusion that it wasn't a new flamethrower, Magnus jumped forward, trusting his armor to keep the worst injuries at bay as he yelled in rage.

"ICELAND COMES FOR YOU!"

The Vorcha poured against him, even as the firing behind him lessened, for fear of hitting a comrade. He could barely hear the shouts of protest and disbelief from his colleagues as he sank the blade of heated carbon into the torso of a snarling Vorcha, removing its upper body from its lower. Instantly, he received what felt like an uppercut to the side of the head, even through the helmet, from the side. _Fine, caution then._

The next swipe, he ducked, his superior training and flexibility a courtesy of the Alliance N7-program. The blade met the offending hand, splitting apart the entire arm that had launched it, before he allowed the blade to simply continue, carving through the Vorcha like through so much butter. Time seemed to slow, as adrenaline kicked in, and his old training flowed through him. Memories, skills, movements and training all seemed natural to him as he avoided swiped and cuts and kicks that could spell issues for his armor. He caved in the skull of a new foe by slamming the butt of his Shotgun into it, causing the feral eyes to pop like zits.

He didn't worry about what was behind him, even as he moved more and more into the masses of enemy creatures. He trusted his comrades to thin out the Vorcha behind him. He trusted them, because he knew each was more than competent, and that for once, he knew he was far from the lone skilled soldier. He knew, even as he spilt the guts of a Vorcha on the ground, cutting open its belly, that he had only once before felt like he really belonged with a crew. Thát life was over though, much as it would likely always pain him to realize it.

"VALHALLA!"

He grinned, beheading a Vorcha in the same swipe he used to cut through one from shoulder to hip, causing boiling innards to splash into the water. As an arm grabbed for him, the muzzle of his shotgun, now fully cooled down, blew the offending creature apart. For some instinctual reason, or perhaps simply logic and fear, the Vorcha now seemed to attempt staying out of his reach, those close to him actually ignoring the continued firing from the other Suns. Dumb idea really, Magnus mused, seeing how the firing ate into the distracted Vorcha. _If I survive this, Tara's most likely going to chew me out for breaking rank… fuck it, I'm having too much fun._

His next victim was a Vorcha that tried tackling him to the ground. He exploited the cretin's momentum, carried it over his shoulder and slammed it into its friends behind him, flattening them with their own…_What are they, flock-mates?_ He stabbed the blade through the bundle of knocked down Vorcha, smirking as he heard their cries of death and agony. Each death was a tribute to the Aesir, he knew, even if he currently just cared about surviving. Material or not, he attributed his second and third lives to the Aesir, as he had yet to be carried off to Valhalla by the Valkyries. One day, he knew, it would happen. Odin would call for him.

Though he revered the Allfather, King of the Gods and God of death, Magnus had a saying. It was a saying that seemed to have lost meaning now, as he had been killed twice already. Still, he used it whenever he could. A shame he was the only one who used it though, as it meant he could never use it with someone else. _Still, what do we say to the God of death?_

As he dodged a new swipe from a particularly big Vorcha, he smirked and stabbed the blade between its eyes, sending it straight to Hel._ 'Not today', is what we say._

The rest of the fight started to blurry out, becoming a seemingly endless repetition of dodging, swiping, shooting and cutting. He felt a bit like back in school, parrying the blade of trainee Leng with his own sword, enjoying the fact that he held, if not bested, the number one close combat fighter in the program. Around him, the Vorcha were getting more and more apprehensive about attacking him, and large scores of their horde were already being mowed down by the deadly precision of the Blue Suns troopers. Magnus had, without fully realizing it, pushed the Vorcha into a large, circular chamber where different sewers met below a new manhole, some ten feet above them.

The Suns were quick to utilize the expanded space, and now more of their numbers filed into the room, assault rifles barking and spewing out incendiary ammunition that cut through the Vorcha, setting them on fire in the process. By now, the creatures were in full flight, animal fear taking over as they desperately sought to escape what had become a full-scale slaughter. Slugs bit into their backs even as they ran, cutting them down as the mere animals they were in the feral state. Dazed by the constant jumping and dodging, Magnus remained where he was, watching the fight pretty much end all around him._ Damn… I'm good._

As the adrenaline started fading, and his senses came back to what could be called "normal", Magnus shook his head and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes against the green artificial light provided by his helmet. He shut off the heat-knife, watching the blade of hot carbon practically vanish into the air. Despite the years of service, he still had no idea how the thing actually worked.

"…fuuuuuck…" He groaned, feeling a stinging sensation on his right hand. Putting away the shotgun, he raised the hand to inspect it. A lot of the armor on the gauntlet had been ruined and ripped off, and the back of his hand was exposed. The skin was torn and bleeding, and he could see the more exposed bones through where the muscle had been torn as well, ruptured veins pumping small streams of blood from the wound; "Figures…"

"Trooper. What the _Hell_ was that?" Tara walked up to him, every fiber in her being and voice radiating command and authority. She was _clearly_ not in 'cute-Tara' mode. Magnus stood from his rest, standing as straight as his adrenaline-hazed head allowed him, while he applied a dosage of Medigel to the wound. No reason in winning the fight if he died of blood poisoning.

"Captain."

"You broke rank, Olafur. You left a hole in the group and you charged into an enemy formation! What the Me'engsk was going through your mind?!" Tara was actually shouting at him now, though her voice somehow seemed to remain in the normal pitch. He was a little annoyed that she admonished him after he just kicked ass, though he knew he had broken formation, and disobeyed an order. _Fuck… thought I'd left this part behind with the Alliance…_

"Captain? I thought we were about to be overrun. I tried, and managed to break up the attack. I didn't realize it would leave gap. Did we…suffer casualties because of me?" He asked, remaining calm. Tara, even as frightening as she currently was, was nothing compared to his old drill-sergeant. He kept this to himself though.

"Thank Keelah, we didn't. All men are accounted for…" Tara said, still obviously pissed, though it now slowly shifted to a more… frustrated tone; "Magnus, what the hell were you thinking? Running in like that?"

"It seemed better than reliving the Alamo." He said, offering a shrug. At Tara's confused expression; "Old battle, everyone died."

"…The only casualties so far are a number of injured. Private Akair is tending to them now, seeing how Mought went with Sidonis. You?" Tara's voice had now shifted into the more personal, but still matter-of-fact she used with him when others were around.

"Fine, really. It was fun." He offered her a grin hidden beneath the helmet. Tara shook her head, as if in disappointment or simple exasperation, and left him to stand. Magnus sighed and rolled his shoulders, looking at the state of his armor.

Most of it was covered in drying blood and gore. Only his sides were still showing the blue armor, while the rest was covered in dark blood, giving of a smell that even his filters couldn't stop from making him gag. In combination with the muck they waded through, the urge to gag was hard to resist. _Great… I look like Deadpool… _

Still, it was more or less intact, and as such he couldn't care less for the aesthetics. Though he was glad he was recognizable from a Blood Pack, even if they never used troops with an IQ above that of a toaster. A thing he found rather interesting, was that while he was a long time out of practice, his skills in close-quarters seemed to have remained what they used to, which was rather useful, he thought. Thee Quarian woman that he felt connected to, a more or less useless word when describing his psyche, gave the signal to proceed through the tunnels. The sewer seemed to stop being a sewer at some point, and now was a humid, but "dry" tunnel that allowed more than five men to walk shoulder to shoulder.

Hearing a small buzz in his ear, Magnus turned on the comms, having a feeling just who it might be. He wasn't disappointed;

"Hey" He said, already knowing it was Tara by the sound of her breathing alone.

"…Hey. Listen, about what happened earlier…" He was surprised to find her voice remained the casual, if professional tone she used around others. _Great, she's pissed._

"I know, I know. Bad call and shit. I just figured something had to happen or we'd be squeezed out of ammo before the Vorcha turned tail." He sighed. He wasn't going to apologize for something he knew had been the right decision, except if it was to make the appearance in front of others that Tara was simply his Captain.

"Yeah… I just… why'd you do it?"

"...Because it seemed a good idea?" He tried, smirking beneath the helmet as they walked. While walking in the darkness, assisted only by either flashlights or night vision sucked, at least he wasn't wading through the muck anymore.

"Dammit… fine, you're off the hook. For now anyways. Just don't do it again, understand?" Tara grumbled, sounding more than a little annoyed with him.

"Do what, risk my life? I knew you cared." He grinned, shaking his head a little at his own joke. Tara's reply was rather dry;

"No, don't break formation again."

"What, so no 'I can't lose you!' or 'Please stay with me' emotional thingies?" He asked, a little surprised at her somewhat short and flat response.

"Why'd I do that?" She shot back, adding to the confusion mounting in his mind. Sighing and pulling the Mattock out instead of his Katana, Magnus looked at the back of the Quarian in a fit of rare bewilderment. _Damn it woman, stop giving me the guilt-trip!_

"Because… eh… because you have the hots for me?" He pondered aloud.

"You've got it all wrong, Olafur. I'm using you for your body." Tara audibly grinned back, causing him to palm his helmet's face. No matter the species, women were just… wrong, in the head at times.

"…What?"

"Yep."

"Seriously?"

"Totally."

"…Damn." He muttered, unsure of how to feel about this. He felt like it was a weird scenario, where he was the vulnerable one, and for that he had gotten injured, wounded. It stung.

Then, he heard Tara snickering over the channel, and was as a result even more confused.

"I'm messing with your head, Magnus. Keelah, who'd have thought you're thát easy to fool?" She laughed. Magnus stared at her, though at her butt mostly, as he couldn't see her face when she was walking in front of him. For a moment, he was unsure what to say or thing about this, about her pulling a practical joke on him. She had toyed with his feelings, but knowing that it was simply a joke made him feel better about it.

In the end, he opted to attribute it to the fact that women, no matter the species, were wrong in the head.

* * *

**Likely, this will be the last chapter in a while. Exams are about to begin, and though I'd like nothing more than flip them off and keep writing, I kinda feel I better devote more time to studying.**

**Remember, I feed on your reviews.**


	4. Project 'Bloodline'

**Well, here we go.**

**This time: Anna reveals secrets, and Magnus kicks some more ass.**

* * *

**Project 'Bloodline'**

* * *

December 24th

SSV Caucasus, Arcturus Station

Station orbit.

23:17

"Isaac? Are you there? Come iiiiiin, Isaac." The playful tone of Nicole Brennan teased. Isaac smiled as his own image appeared on the screen, a haptic display that hung above his bed. Time zones were a bitch, he thought, since it was night on New Canton when it was day on the Caucasus, and vice versa. As a result, he had been rustled from his sleep, the precious few hours he got each cycle, by the incoming call.

Still, considering the caller, he was more than willing to sacrifice some sleep.

"Hey, Honey." He smiled again. Just speaking to her made him smile; "How's my favorite person holding up?" She seemed to waver just a bit at his tired expression though;

"Oh damn it… I didn't wake you, did I?" To which he simply chuckled. It was hard to do anything else, really, when it came to the more flustered and adorable moments of his wife.

"Nah, just went to bed, so not really much loss there. Didn't answer my question, did you now? And how's my mighty heritage coming along?" He grinned at the last part, referring to the fact that Nicole's pregnancy was clearly visible through her colonial outfit.

"Goof." She giggled, giving the display on her end a playful slam, just enough so that he knew she did it; "We're fine, both of us. You know, I think Sophie Rolston is due too."

"Everyone getting pregnant these days?"

"Shut up." Nicole laughed, shaking her head at his rather juvenile remarks. Isaac didn't mind her seeing him as somewhat simple from time to time, as the reactions it caused were some of the more entertaining ones he could provoke from her; "I'm still going to beat her to it. And Isaac?"

"Mmmmyeeess, my queen?" He mused, smiling, struggling to keep his eyes open as his tired body fought his mind for control.

"You damn well better be here for when he comes, you hear me?"

"He? Oh damn, I hoped it would be a little miniature of you. We could call her 'Mini-me'." He chuckled, face split in a shit-eating grin. Nicole sighed in exasperation, probably wondering just where she had gone wrong with the goofball of a husband she had somehow scraped up.

"Please tell me "Lee Riley" is around to knock some sense into your thick skull." Nicole said, shaking her head at Isaac's mock-innocent expression; "Lord knows she's about the only damn person who can hit hard enough."

"You know, you don't have to go with her call-sign when it's just the two of us. I mean, come on, you seemed to like her." Isaac pouted, giving his best imitations of a wrongly accused, mostly due to the comment about his colleague knocking his skull in.

"I do like her. She's the only damn woman I wouldn't suspect of batting eyelashes at you." Nicole smirked, pressing on the fact that she had had to best several other women to get Isaac's attention back then. All worth it, they both agreed on that one.

"Well, she's not around. Got transferred for some R&amp;R on Titan after the whole Incursion-thing was over… think she met a guy there, Kaleb, I think his name was…" He shrugged, trying to remember. Nicole laughed at that, though he wasn't completely sure what exactly she found so funny; "What?"

"Damn… I… sort of thought she… you know… wasn't into men." Nicole actually _blushed_ at that confession, causing Isaac to press a hand over his mouth, so as not to wake his colleagues with his laughing. _So thát's why she never went all jealous._

"…Really?"

"Well she's wearing half a ton of armor. If that doesn't scream 'masculine', I don't know what does." Nicole tried, rubbing the bridge of her nose in slight annoyance. Isaac's brow twitched;

"So… you mean you think I look… 'Masculine' too?" He asked in mock-obviousness, flexing a muscled arm for her amusement. As a result, Nicole snorted in laughter, palming her face in a gesture of resignation. In the background on her end of the transmission, Isaac could hear someone call Nicole's name.

"You really are beyond all help, Isaac." She mused, smiling fondly at him. He shrugged and smiled back;

"Is why you love me."

"Damn you…" Nicole giggled; "Alright, Emma's calling. Gotta go Isaac, love you."

"Love you too, Nicole." He smiled and returned the kiss she blew his way. Then the transmission ended, and he was once more in the darkness of his small room.

Isaac closed his eyes and relaxed, smiling at the fortunes bestowed upon him. Even when the galaxy seemed to go to hell in a mix of wars and Reapers trying to attack the Citadel, he had Nicole. And soon, if he was lucky, a daughter too.

Or a son. He'd be happy with a son too.

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Docking bay L-3, Blue Suns shuttle.

23:18

"Arcturus docking bays, last stop." The Blue Suns pilot, a Turian, called from his seat. The shuttle was one of two, making up the entire surviving crew of the Normandy. Both shuttles were completely blue, with a white circular symbol on the side. As the shuttles disgorged their cargo, Thomas stepped out into the gargantuan station, looking around with eyes weary and tired.

The docking bay was bustling with life, despite the late hour. A small 'beep' signaled his Omnitool automatically adjusting to the time on the station, rather than the Blue Suns vessel. Now it had gone from 22:11 to 23:18, just another reason to hate different time zones. One of the first things to catch Thomas' eye, was the sleeping redhead currently slumped in one of the cushioned chairs, lightly snoring in complete obliviousness to the world. Thomas stopped when he saw her, a small familiar light in the darkness that was loss. He wanted to go to her, wanted to just cry out on her shoulder. Family was family, no matter how strange and fucked up it happened to be.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked behind him to see a just as weary and battered Jane, who nonetheless managed a thin smile;

"Go ahead. Shore-leave until further notice."

He was surprised and confused by the gesture, but decided that he really didn't care much at this point. He had, in his eyes, failed everyone by not saving John, though he still had no memory of what exactly had happened. Roku, the aspect actually being apparently innocent in the death of the commander, had offered a few guesses, though none were even close to plausible in Thomas' mind. He nodded numbly to himself, seeing how Jane had already moved on. Ash was still standing by him.

She always had, ever since their first meeting had she been there for him, and he for her. She was his rock, his safe harbor in the storm, and yet… right now, Thomas felt he needed Anna more than Ashley, odd as he knew it was.

"Want me to stay with you?" She asked, seeing him look at the old admiral with a longing she herself knew from when her dad had used to come home from long tours. It was the longing for family, and she knew that Anna was it for him, regardless of love and relationships.

"I…don't know…" He muttered. On one side, he wanted to just be alone with his sister, to cry and sob into her shoulder and find the comfort only family could offer. On the other hand, he desperately loved Ashley, and being separated from her always made him feel… incomplete.

Ashley however, solved his predicament by kissing him on the cheek;

"It's okay. I'll see if Tali needs any help." She said with a smile, one he found himself returning, if ever so weakly. Gods knew Tali needed help right now, though if she would accept it was another thing altogether.

He sighed at the thought, mind racing with all the issues and catastrophes the crew currently struggled with. Tali had lost her bondmate, bonded or not, and most likely was still sobbing her heart out in the other shuttle, seeing how he hadn't seen her step out of it yet. Jane lost a valued colleague, at least he was pretty sure she had valued John, and the crew had lost friends and loved ones… all because he hadn't managed to get his shit together and issue a complete red alert. _Once more… secrets, it's always the secrets that kill those I care about!_

As the rest of the crew dispersed, most to find a bar and drown their frustrations, the shuttles lifted off and Thomas found himself alone on the docks, looking at his sister, snoring lightly in the cushioned chair in the waiting area. He walked over to her, and sat down in a chair next to hers. As his sister was still sleeping, Thomas took the rare opportunity to study, really study his sister's face.

Her eyes had dark bags beneath them, signs of sleep-deprivation as well as more wrinkles than the last time he had seen her. There were a lot more grey stains in her hair, slowly winning out against the shrubbery that was her messy red hair. Her cheeks were more gaunt, like something had sapped the hyperactive old woman of her energy and strength since the last time he'd seen her. Her snoring on top of this, was as undignified for an admiral as could be, yet so utterly _Anna_.

"Anna?" He tried carefully waking her from the slumber. Anna stirred, but remained snoring and slightly salivating as well. Thomas found it to be a funny sight, despite all that had happened, and thoughts of crying his heart out became less and less relevant.

"Anna?" He whispered, gently pushing her shoulder.

"Kill 'em all…" She muttered and started blinking, eyes open but not really seeing anything yet, as she seemed to try focusing on the person next to her; "Kill… Thomas?"

"…Hey." He muttered, giving her a small smile; "How-"

He was interrupted by the fierce embrace his sister, an old psychopath by anyone's account, who hugged him as close as humanly possible. Once more, Thomas was taken completely by surprise at the gesture of intimacy and comfort shown by his sister, and yet again, he wasn't sure _why_ this was. In the end, he returned the hug, once more feeling tears press against his eyes.

Suddenly, Anna seemed to realize what she was doing, and ended the hug with the same abruptness as it had been initiated;

"…Fuck… Thomas, I… I'm glad you're alive."

"…Anna…" He muttered, still fighting to keep the tears down. He was the big brother, he wasn't supposed to start crying… what a bunch of bullshit thát rule was. Right now, he felt like crying and smiling at the same time, which resulted in his expression being rather strange, causing his sister to laugh weakly.

"…What happened out there?"

He looked down at his feet, trying to figure out how to explain it to his sister that the Collectors were already a threat, right after she had lost thousands of lives defeating a small flotilla of Reapers trying to prepare for the actual invasion. Most of all, he was embarrassed by the fact that she would know he had failed protecting John.

"…We…we were attacked by something new." He started, then decided to give fuck-it-all about the consequences, and launched into an explanation as detailed as he possibly could, about what had happened, about who and what the Collectors were. He refrained from going near the actual events around the SR-2, as he knew Cerberus was nowhere near interested in reviving John, not to mention give them a ship like that. In the end, Anna sat back with a more or less complete understanding of what the Collectors most likely were and planned, and had no real clue as to how to react.

"…fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… fuck." She groaned, palming her forehead; "Great Scot… we just go from one massive galactic _fuck-up_ to another, don't we?"

"I guess…"

"They saw through your stealth-field?"

"I think so… I lost my memory of the entire attack…but yes."

"Makes sense, I suppose. They'd need some pretty powerful scanners to stalk ships across an entire cluster, much less a system…." Anna said, taking a hand to the small piece in her ear, nodding to something said on the other end; "Right…Yeah I get it. I _know_, Price. I said I'll get to that already…Jesus."

Thomas just looked at her in a small amount of confusion, but didn't speak. She was a high-ranking military officer, so it was obvious she had a lot on her plate, hence the bags beneath her eyes and gaunt cheeks. Anna turned to him;

"Alright. We're trying to get this mess sorted out, but in the meantime, I'd like the lot of you to remain on the station. Consider yourselves on shore leave, that sort of thing…try not getting someone pregnant, in case shit suddenly hits the fan." She spoke with a level of casualness that one would expect from someone mentioning the weather. Thomas blushed furiously at the reference to his and Ashley's activities, but kept silent as Anna continued;

"About the Normandy… I'm sorry. It was a piss-expensive ship, and I figure a lot of good people died." She muttered, sounding genuinely sad about it. Then, she clapped her hands together and changed mood on a cent; "Now then, given any thoughts to the Ascension-thing?"

Thomas was momentarily dumbfounded, staring at Anna like she had grown an extra head, then realized _who_ he was talking to, and shook his head;

"I don't know… I know you think they could make me some sort of super-soldier, but…"

"-You don't want to leave what you've got, personal as it is, and little as it might be." Anna nodded, appearing to be understanding his thoughts.

"I…I… Yes, I guess so… But, it's not just that. I want to kill the fuckers who did this, and I can't do that-"

"From the space-version of a board school. I get that. I don't see your robot-god friend around. Shame, if he died too." Anna said, leaning back in the chair.

"Roku? He's fine, fine… I think. He's intact, if that's what you mean…why?"

"Just thinking… he could, in theory, manage your training. Keep you with Corporal Aquila then, and have Wrex and Roku keep training you… though, there might be an issue there…"

"What?" He asked, to which Anna just sighed and shook her head;

"Can't go into too much detail, but I don't plan on Wrex hanging around in Alliance Space for much longer. A month, tops." It was rare that Thomas saw Anna mulling things over. Actually, it was rare he even saw her, but that was entirely beside the point. His mind spun with what little information she had given him, and utterly failed to remember being distraught over the feeling of failure he had been consumed by since waking up on the Blue Suns cruiser.

And then, it snapped.

"You're sending him to Tuchanka… you want someone you trust to rule the Krogans!" He exclaimed, though in a hushed tone. Didn't seem to matter to his sister though, as she promptly slapped a hand over his mouth.

"You know… sometimes I really think being a deviously smart bastard is genetic. We both seem to have it." She grinned, releasing his mouth. Thomas widened his eyes and stared at her, amazed that he had been right. Then, he was even more amazed when he realized what he had been right about.

"Don't tell me…" He started, trailing off at Anna's amused smirk. She seemed completely unbothered by discussing military strategies in the middle of a docking bay.

"Tell you what? He _is_ the only Krogan I trust."

"…You're going to bring _them_ in too?"

"Well… They _are_ sort of the most violent, badass and warmongering soldiers in this galaxy aside from humans. So yeah, I wouldn't mind commanding a battalion of Krogans. Especially if we can make them all pack the same punch as old Wrex." Anna admitted, laughing as she got up from her chair; "Come, I need to show you something, _and_ there's someone you need to meet."

Thomas blinked rapidly in confusion, then nodded, stretched and followed his sister as she led him through the station. When they stopped, they didn't end up in Anna's office, as Thomas had expected, but rather in what seemed to be a laboratory the size of a small city, with researchers, scientists and what-not walking about, doing what Anna described as 'science-stuff'.

"So… you have a team of scientists working for you?"

"More like an army really, but yeah. The breakthroughs these people have made so far… we're alive because of them." Anna said, gesturing at the more than expensive-looking equipment standing around, whirring as it was put to use, or shining with laser as it did 'stuff'.

"So… what are we doing here?" Thomas asked after a few minutes of stupefied silence. Anna nodded, as if answering something, then walked to a table nearby, where a woman stood with skin much the same as the little girl Jennifer had met in the swimming hall.

"Doctor Cole?" Anna said, a certain amount of command in her voice. The woman in question snapped around, clearly surprised at seeing Anna. Thomas could sympathize, as Anna tended to surprise him as well.

"Admiral. I didn't expect… how can I help you?" the woman said, then seemed to notice Thomas as well.

"Doctor, this here's Thomas Fisher, my nephew." At the name, Thomas noticed something like a light shining in the doctor's eyes, and the old fear of being dissected was suddenly reemerging in his mind.

"You… Service Chief Fisher, it is an honor meeting you in person. A lot more than just going over the vids and tests and…" At Anna's hard stare, the woman stopped talking, leaving Thomas _even more_ confused, if that was even possible at this point. He numbly accepted and shook the hand she held for him, and was amazed at the sheer energy in her handshake.

"Okay… what am I missing?"

"Thomas. Doctor Cole here is in charge of the scientists under my command, and as such she is on my direct payroll. What you are about to hear is confidential to the highest level, and not even your girlfriend can be told of it. Also, all blame should fall on me, not her." Whatever smile Thomas had held just earlier was now gone, replaced by a confused frown.

"…Okay?"

"Cole. Explain Project Bloodline, if you please." The word 'Bloodline' made his skin crawl for some reason, as did the hesitation in the doctor as she spoke;

"Yes, you see… Service Chief…"

"Just call him Thomas, Brynn. I do all the time, even his bloody comma- Captain calls him Thomas." Anna broke in. Cole seemed used to this, and continued;

"You see, Thomas… one of my team's major projects for the past month, thirty-seven days to be exact, has been concerning you." She took a breath, then continued; "Ever since the discovery of the amazing power you hold, what we call the Flammable Exhaust Energy , or FEE for short, Admiral Fisher has had us trying to discern the secrets of it, how to unlock and copy it, mainly." Thomas snapped around and stared at Anna, eyes wide;

"You…WHAT?!"

"Go on, Doctor." Anna simply said, ignoring his outburst.

"So far, we haven't been able to figure out more than it is inlaid in the DNA itself, coating the bases of each string with what appears to be a filter of highly concentrated polysaccharides, what is mostly known as sugar. This is the one difference we can discern so far, however… it didn't make sense for it to do anything but deliver a huge risk to the subject… Without Price, we'd have simply called it. But…"

"You can tell him. To be honest he's probably an expert on the field anyway."

"Right… Well, Price, our resident SAI-construct decided to look around in every single record concerning you, plus every piece of surveillance available. This, as you might suspect, involved a fair amount of hacking and illegal entrance into private systems… the Normandy's included."

"I don't think I like where this is going…" Thomas muttered, eyes darting between Anna and Brynn.

"We came across a file from the surveillance of the Medbay, containing you, corporal Teresa Aquila, Doctor Karin Chakwas and a geth. The last one made a few of us jump a bit, but the explanation offered to the corporal and you was… frankly, just what we needed." Cole explained. Thomas slapped his forehead, dragging his fingers across his face.

"So, the project was rebooted, original ideas were scrapped, and instead we set out to mapping the tertiary system of arteries in the human body. The arteries that weren't there on any medical scans… but when we put an electrical current to the sample, it-"

"Wait, wait, wait! Sample?" Thomas gawked, now glaring at his sister once more. She looked back at him and smiled, rubbing her neck like some naughty child.

"Hey, I work to save Humanity. If I've gotta have some blood drawn in the process…"

"You violated me in my sleep?"

"No! Of course not!" Anna protested, then added; "I had Wrex do it" This time, Thomas stared at her with open mouth, wide eyes and heaving breath, unable to process what she had just said.

"This is so fucked up…" He groaned, palming his face again. Cole, at the very least, seemed sympathetic to his distress.

"Cole. Focus. Results?" Anna snapped, causing the younger woman to resume speaking.

"So far, we've been able to construct a full simulation of your body, based on the DNA recovered from the blood sample." Cole said, pulling up a large, holographic display, like a pane of glass. On it, a human-sized transparent person was displayed naked, though without reproductive organs. Thomas was thankful for the last part.

"We then ran a simulation where we made the brain produce a signal, an emotion to be precise. The spike of electricity was much like what is seen with human biotics, and revealed an, until now, completely unknown tertiary system of arteries, which I mentioned earlier." She said, paused and then added for good measure; "Needless to say, this is a scientific milestone."

"What she says is that we want to replicate your powers." Anna said; "The fact that they still work _after_ Roku left your body, means they are bound to your body. Either we activate the same genes in our other soldiers, or we find what made them in you, and copy the shit out of it."

Thomas just stared at her, a flat, confused and disbelieving stare that pretty much said just one thing: 'What?' It was the entire situation that rendered him utterly dumbfounded and in a stupor, unable to immediately process what had just happened.

Especially the fact that Anna had just said, out in the open and with witnesses that Roku had been _inside_ him. Doctor Cole nodded at Anna's explanation;

"Yes. That is so far the general plan, and we are making headway with mapping the system of channels we believe to be responsible for the flow of "Chi" as this 'Roku' called it. We're currently still in the starting stages, but with the groundwork laid, I believe it should be simply, if long-term work."

"This is really, really fucked up… Didn't Roku tell you my powers couldn't be shared?" Thomas exclaimed, looking at Anna like she had done him a personal offense. In a way, she sort of had.

"Yeah, he did. And, I believed him until I saw Corporal Aquila rip a plate of solid titanium from the floor. So, not much trust for "Sifu Flameo" from my corner." Anna mused. Cole raised a brow at this, but otherwise remained neutral on the point, choosing instead to move on;

"Be that as it may. Seeing how the apparent creator of this power named it "Chi", the department has been pulling books on the subject from pretty much any source we could get to. Again, with the help of our SAI." She said, picking up a datapad from the nearby table. To the surprise of Thomas, she handed it to him;

"…What"

"The files here should contain everything practical we have learned so far. We'll spare you the philosophical part, but this should prove helpful to you, in case we actually hit the mark on the whole "Chi" thing. If not…" Cole shrugged; "At least you'll have something enlightening to read in the free hours."

Thomas stared at the datapad in his hand, trying to hold it so hard that pain started appearing in his fingers. _Damn… it's not a dream then…_

* * *

Omega, Sahrabarik system

Blue Suns territory, upper sewers

20:11

"Coming up on the lower sewers exit…"

"_Affirmative. Fighting has died down on top…"_ The voice of the Turian came through on the comms. Magnus looked ahead as he walked, hands on his Mattock, scanning the corridor ahead of them. While there was still no light aside from what they brought with them, the corridor was at least mostly dry, except for where small puddles of water were collecting beneath leaking pipes.

He followed as Tara led them through the corridors and into the slums, emerging in what was essentially hostile territory. Behind them, the barking of gunfire could still be heard as the Suns battled their attackers, most likely the same type they themselves had fought in the sewers. In that case, the ones calling the shots would be the Blood Pack, if he remembered anything about who used what sort of troops.

Not that Magnus really feared the other groups. He'd been in special forces long enough to fight all three organizations, his own included.

The Suns used precision, discipline and heavy weapons. Most, if not all of them had military backgrounds, and the Suns was the organization most like a regular military. The three species usually employed in them were Humans, Turians and now Quarians.

The Blood Pack was more of a 'Zerg-rush' kind of thing, far as he knew. Most of them were Vorcha, hired or bred for the single purpose of being cannon fodder. The Vorcha were resilient, which was just about the only nice thing he could say about them. Other than that, they were rats on two legs. Commanding the Vorcha, there would often be a dozen Krogans for each hundred Vorcha, plus an undetermined number of attack-Varren.

The Eclipse, Magnus outright _despised_. They were everything wrong with a mercenary organization, and each member took its place by killing someone from the outside. Ideally it had to be from an enemy group, but the easiest and most common method was to simply murder an innocent civilian. Hence why he despised them more than the Blood Pack, who only wanted to fight what could give them an actual fight in return. Salarians, Asari and humans were in the Eclipse, which sadly meant that the whole "killing humans" thing wasn't over for Magnus yet.

He was brought from his thoughts as rounds slammed into the walkway around them, fired by incoming hostiles using the corners and nooks for cover. Magnus saw flashes of yellow, humanoid shapes. _Speak of the Devil, and he'll come running to say 'hi'._

"Contact!" One of the Suns yelled. The team threw themselves into the fight, returning fire from exposed positions against an enemy that almost seemed to have been waiting for them. _Figures… first it's Vorcha, then Eclipse…_

Rolling into cover behind a sky-car, that Magnus quite frankly had no idea how had been parked down in the slums in the first place, he weathered the barrage of slugs hammering his cover, waiting for the enemy to overheat. In the meantime, his own Mattock was brought to a stand against his chest. Next to him, Kittles and another trooper, a Turian, ducked behind the same vehicle as him.

"You know…" Magnus said with a calm voice, inwardly counting the seconds until the barrages, even if the Eclipse took turns, would end; "I was just going over what I didn't like about the Eclipse. And what do you know, here they are."

The firing didn't stop, but lessened in intensity, and Magnus took thát moment to lean out of cover, aim down his sights and squeeze out a torrent of semi-automatic slugs from his Mattock. On the receiving end of the rounds was an Asari merc, yellow armor and symbols marking her as an initiate of the group. As such, this was likely why she failed to fall behind cover as the first round hammered her shields, youthful belief that she was invincible.

Only when the shields sparked and died at the sixth shot, did it seem logical to her to pull back into cover, even as the seventh shot cracked her helmet's front and sent her sprawling backwards across the floor, yelping in shock.

Unrelenting, Magnus exploited this to coldly put a round into her leg, changing the yelp of surprise to a scream of agony, as the shin exploded from the hit. Magnus grinned as he fired another round, this one embedding itself in her thigh, likely splintering the bones in the leg. He saw nothing wrong with dragging out the death of a girl that was, species-wise, a mere teen. He didn't really mind because she was a merc.

He cracked the helmet completely with the next shot, even as the girl's comrades tried hauling her into cover, using the blood oozing from her wounds as a way to make her glide easier.

"I don't think so…" He smirked, planting a round right between the girl's eyes, spraying the floor behind her with pink brain matter and skull fragments. The girl was dropped in the same moment, her comrades going back to spraying violent, brash and inaccurate fire at the advancing Suns.

"ECLIPSE FORE-!"

A volley from the muzzle of a Blue Suns Vindicator rifle cut through the throat of the shouter, another woman and probably Asari to boot. The yell to arms ended in a gurgling cry as the spine was shattered while the jugular ruptured and hosed the front of the hardsuit with purple blood. The Eclipse fired back, and next to Magnus, Kittles received a volley that shattered his shields and tore into his left shoulder, sending the man to the ground with a howl of pain. Not wanting to risk the same fat upon Kittles as he had visited upon the Asari merc, Magnus hauled Kittles back into cover, while the Turian provided covering fire against the Eclipse.

A distorting of sound, like air folding in on itself, reminded Magnus of another reason he hated the Eclipse. As he hauled Kittles back behind cover, a downward-curving warm splashed the Turian trooper, as well as the car they stood behind. The tearing gravity reduced the Turian's head to a mass of exploding purple droplets of tissue, and left a spherical hole in the sky-car.

"BLUE SUNS, YOU BOSH'TETS!" Tara yelled in anger, causing the entire team to open fire in unison at her shout. The suppressive fire was nowhere near sufficient to kill off the Eclipse mercs, but as Magnus glanced at Tara, he realized the rounds weren't intended for killing. Not solely anyway.

As the Eclipse hugged the walls and covers, a series of small _clanks_ and _dings_ could be heard over the almost constant gunfire. Corporal Sendala snapped to look around her cover, only to come face to face with a small, spherical device that rolled to a stop a mere foot from her, emitting a series of beeps. A scream of panic welled up in her throat, but was snuffed as the throat itself was torn to shreds in the ensuing explosion, sharing the fate of most of the force sent to ambush the Blue Suns.

"Push forward! Check your sectors and execute any stragglers. We need to link up with Team Beta on the other side." Tara commanded. With military precision, the Suns moved out of cover, laying down a constant suppressive fire that kept most enemy hugging their cover. As Magnus reached where he figured at least one was hiding.

He was proven correct when the Asari in mention jumped from cover, her face concealed by the yellow helmet, so similar to his own, were it not for the coloring scheme. The woman's warcry was changed into that of surprise and shock when he kicked her in the chest. His foot remained on her front as he rode her to the floor, stomping on her armored hardsuit. He could feel the strange sensation of having his foot stuck in a biotic field, the buzzing as the warping energies swatted his boot from her chest. The gravimetric energies sent him to the floor himself, a hard clatter of armor on ground signaling his impact. The woman was on him almost instantly, fist curled and encased in biotic energies, prepared to spread the contents of his helmet across the ground.

Magnus' right fist shot up, hitting the underside of her wrist with enough force to break the weak protection around it. The Asari cried out in pain as her hand was numbed, nerves stunned by the pain of breaking bones. As Magnus reached for his sidearm, the Asari smashed her head, helmet and all, into his head, metal and ceramics hitting protection of equal value as helmets met.

It just so happened that Magnus was stronger.

With a quick and brutal punch to the throat, Magnus sent the woman coughing and hissing away from him, allowing him enough leeway to kick her in the head, reversing their positions as her barrier dropped and she fell to the floor, a startled yelp of pain coming from her like a hoarse whisper, betraying the fact that his fist had overcome the protection linking the helmet to her hardsuit.

Magnus clenched his fist and unfolded the Omniblade on his left wrist, plunging the searing blade through the helmet, spearing the brain and carving through neural matter in the blink of an eye. The hissing of evaporating grey matter could be heard as the start of her scream was ended, leaving him in a strange silence. The woman's thrashing ended almost immediately, with only the post-mortem spasms and twitches raking the body. Magnus retracted the blade, grinning at the stainless surface of the scorching carbon. There really was something to be said about using weapons the temperature of a furnace; It didn't leave a spot of blood on the blade. Around him, much the same was happening between the Suns and the Eclipse.

Proof of the Suns' superiority was given when only four engagements of this type ended with the death of the Suns trooper, requiring the gunpoint of another trooper to execute the Asari. The only trooper he actually saw die, was when the man tried putting a bullet through the head of the pinned Asari, only to lose most of his innards from the centered warp kicked into him by the woman. There hadn't even been a scream, as much as a grunt of surprise from the man, as he fell to the ground with a thud of ceramics hitting metallic floor.

Looking at the bodies of his dead comrades, Magnus took the small solace that he hardly knew them, and that if he ever found out their identities, he wouldn't remember a face distorted by agony and surprise. He'd found more than once that ignorance really _was_ bliss, and that he would not care for those he never knew. This was one of the reasons, one of many, why people tended to view him as a cynical bastard.

Tara checked the corpse at her feet, a young Asari in the armor of a sergeant, likely the leader of the squad. The woman held an expression of shock on what remained of her face. Most of the skull was scattered behind the body, with just the lower face remaining, as well as a glazed over eyeball rolling in its socket. The Quarian woman found the eyeball both disturbing and curious to look at, with how it looked upwards, as if searching for the forehead that had been blown away by one of Tara's slugs exploding the skull and brain into a shower of gore. Tara's interest was held by a few seconds, then she kicked the dead merc over, splaying her corpse face-down, and planted a foot on her back.

"Take thát, Bosh'tet." She growled. Tara liked to view herself as a sympathetic person, and carried compassion towards most people she met, even if she tended to hide it behind a mask of professionalism and coolness. However, when it came to rivaling mercs, she had no intention of showing even a hint of mercy. She kicked the body again for good measure, eyes on the men who had died under her command. Thresher, Simons, DeWitt, Altus, Harker and Montea. Good men all of them, even if they hadn't been an actual crew until a year back, Tara still knew and had trusted each as a comrade.

She offered a prayer to the Ancestors for the souls of her men, then kicked then dead Asari again, just because. She really didn't feel like she needed a reason to kick someone who killed one of her men. Looking around, she observed her troops strip the dead Eclipse ambush for heat sinks, weapons and Omnigel. She herself had already relieved the dead Asari of her Omnitool, a Nexus variant that was, quite frankly and embarrassingly, better than her own. She saw Magnus admire his Omniblade, having just pulled it from the skull of the Asari he had fought, and felt a flutter of heat at the sight of him like that, all ready and spattered with Asari blood.

"Hayfield, Kittles. Take the wounded back to base. The rest of us will proceed as planned and link up with Operative Sidonis' group at the other end of the slums. Keelah Se'lai." She nodded at the men.

"Roger that, Captain. Good luck." Hayfield replied, folding his rifle back onto his back before hoisting one of the wounded, a Turian, on his shoulder. Kittles supported another while keeping his shotgun out. It was obvious that the man was in some amount of pain from the wound he had sustained in the shoulder, and Tara both admired and was annoyed at the fact that he soldiered through it, ignoring the tissue damage it could cause him later on. Still, she wasn't going to complain about them following orders.

The team had started out thirty strong when the ambush had sprung, now it was down to sixteen, with six dead and the others injured. Ancestors, how she hated Eclipse. With a sigh, she turned to regard what fighting force she had left;

"Alright, break's over. Move out."

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it :)**

**The story could always use some more reviews, just saying... and now I started begging... great, I had hoped I wouldn't start begging until at least chapter 7... oh well, as long as you enjoy it. Remember, the story is interactive, so thoughts and comments are taken into account.**

**On a side-note: Damn, Nicole and Isaac are difficult to write.**


	5. Drill it in!

**Break in the finals. Yay!**

**I have a few days till the next one, about four actually, so I have the time to post this. Not sure if it counts as a filler or something akin to an action-chapter though. We're starting with the intersection between ME1 and ME2, because dang if this wouldn't be a long story with both a full two-years between, plus the entire altered, warped and hopefully canon-raped story-line of ME2. Now, like with the first story, the main elements will likely be the same, what with the Council being complete jerk-offs, the Collectors being space-boogymen and Harbinger being a general bitch, but there'll also be A LOT of new shit going on... sorry, trying to cut down on the profanities... not going so well. **

**I can imagine a lot of people are busy with their own finals currently, which could be why there aren't thát many people reviewing, so I'll just wish those of you who are struggling with finals, like me, "bad luck" because saying good luck results in the opposite, so wishing bad luck should be a good thing... I dunno.**

**This time: Christmas-cards, reflections, knees to the gut and more Chi-stuff.**

* * *

**Drill it in!**

* * *

December 25th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Apartment D-5, rented by: Thomas. V. Fisher, Ashley. M. Williams

01:05

Thomas lay awake, staring at the ceiling above him. He tried telling himself that it was simple insomnia, the same type that had plagued him for years prior to landing on Eden Prime. He had always taken medicine for it, melatonin to help calm the nerves and settle down in a steady rhythm of breathing. He hadn't had a chance, nor a reason to even look for a pharmacy since the start of his new life, mainly because the constant fighting and drilling tended to leave him exhausted and drop-dead tired at the end of the day._ Let me sleep…_

He sighed, trying to fight the yawn mounting in his throat. His skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat, leaving him both cooled and frustratingly hot, even as the climate-control of the apartment gave off a soft hum in the corner. It really was more of a lullaby than it was a factor of annoyance, and a funny little thing that hadn't changed a bit in more than two hundred years. _Please Gods, let me sleep…_

Next to him, the naked form of his girlfriend shifted slightly, as if reacting to his frustrations. Ashley's presence gave him a small smile, as did the snoring sounds she emitted, just soft enough that it still classified as snoring, but nowhere near what he remembered from his childhood, sharing the same bedroom as his parents. _Right… so much has happened since then… Child, Student…dead, alive, soldier, some kind of firebender…_

What bothered him more than anything else at the moment, and likely the cause of his insomnia as well, was the fact that he was once more keeping secrets from the woman he loved more than life itself. Ashley had asked him how the meeting had gone, what Anna said and such, and he had said she only wanted to catch up. Stupid, stupid thing to do. He had already learned so, so many times that secrets got people killed, the people he cared about no less. It was the universe's way of spitting him in the face whenever it got the chance, he guessed. So far, what positive changed could he _possibly_ lay claim to? What had he done to validate his existence so far? John was dead, Garrus was dead, Sev and Fixer were dead, the whole of Noveria was dead. Families had been shattered, broken. The entire colony of Eden Prime had been slaughtered because he had kept secrets. Tali had almost died in the clinic because he kept her a somewhat-secret from John… _What the fuck am I doing with people's lives?_

A soft glow suddenly shone from his Omnitool, the device recharging on the floor next to the bed. At first he simply thought it was recharged, but the fact that it kept glowing told him there was a message on the thing. The first thought to go through his mind was concerning the mental stability of whomever dared text someone at shit-o'clock in the night. Thomas blinked, reaching out for the gadget whilst doing his best to remain still, as to not wake up Ashley. Fingers closed around the device, he rolled slightly over to view the thing while keeping the soft glow from shining on his girlfriend.

Message received. _Huh… you don't say._

Origin: Stockholm, Sweden, Europe, Earth. _Wait… wait…_ his mind was starting to catch up now, mental gears whirring into place and motion as his brain started going over what it was supposed to connect those words- _Oh fuck me! I completely forgot!_

"_Hi Thomas and Mrs. Williams and Tali and Nikolai and Jon and Mrs. Tekila and mister Garrus and Santa and Silly-Boss and Scorch and miss Liara."_ The message started, and Thomas could practically hear Jennifer's voice as she put in the words, probably helped by her mother. The mention of Garrus and John brought him a spike of grief though.

"_It's Christmas here, and I got some really cool stuff. A HAMSTER! Mum gave me a hamster, and dad came home too and he started crying when he saw me, and I cried too, but not as much as him but still. I have a family again, and I can hug my parents and sleep in their bed. They didn't let me do that before, but now they want me to, and it's really nice too."_ The thin smile on Thomas's lips grew a little bigger as his chest tightened up with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

"_I wanted to have Christmas with you too, and have fun on the ship like we did, and then mum could meet Joker and Dad could meet people too. He's a soldier, so he could help too, right? But mum said we can't have Christmas on a spaceship because you don't have holidays, which I think is really sad. I named my hamster 'Wrex'. Can you tell him that? Because it's red, with red hair and it looks like him so I named it Wrex, even though it's actually a girl, but don't tell Wrex that, because then he could get sad that I think he's a girl. Mum says it's a good name too."_ The mention of Wrex made Thomas frown, as he remembered what Anna had revealed to him, namely that Wrex had at some point snuck off with some of _his_ blood, apparently under orders from Anna. Which again beggared the question, just who Wrex was working for. The who, of course, was starting to seem the obvious 'Anna', but Thomas still wasn't sure that was even logical. What would she have to offer him that… No, that was pretty obvious too. Anna had probably promised Wrex a way to return to Tuchanka. _My family is well and truly fucked in the head._

"_Hello"_ The new "tone" in the message caused Thomas to frown as he kept reading_ "My name is Niels Bjorn, and you saved my daughter's life. I can never truly repay you for that, and I know you don't even know me, and frankly I'm not used to writing this type of messages, so bear with my informality, I figure thát much is allowed here. I do not know the details of what happened exactly, only that I suddenly get a call from home, with my wife crying through the transmission, and I start fearing what could be wrong. Then, I get the single most impossible news a father can receive: My daughter is home. My daughter came home, alive and unharmed, because of what _you_ did for her. Jennifer tells of angels and fire and people who hurt her, and then you. I suppose it isn't really my place to ask, not after everything you have done for us… but, Thomas Fisher… I am just… so, so glad, so… renewed, alive, that my daughter is home again. If I ever meet you, I suspect I just might kiss your feet. My daughter is alive and safe, because of you. Merry Christmas, Thomas Fisher. - Corporal Niels Bjorn, Alliance 101__st__ Riflemen."_ The last bits of the message started becoming hard to read, and it wasn't until Thomas tried wiping the Omnitool that he realized, the blurriness wasn't from the tool, but from his watery eyes.

The message had come as if on cue, at the moment where his doubt was eating away at him, guilt racking his mind and grief tugging at his heart. There truly was _one_ thing he had changed for the better, one family he had brought back together instead of tearing it apart. Though it had cost him time, great effort and pain, Thomas knew he would go through Teltin all over again if he had to. The simple, heartfelt message he had just read proved that. It proved that he actually had some merit.

For a moment, he considered waking Ashley up, to show her the message. After a few seconds of listening to her breathing though, he thought better of it and rolled over to write a reply, with what meager words he could come up with, as he doubted anything could compare to having one's child back. Message sent, as well as a wish of Merry Christmas and omission of the disaster that had happened, he turned off the Omnitool and dropped it back down for a recharge. Eyes now turned to the ceiling once more, he blinked the tears from his eyes. _So… it wasn't all for nothing…_

With a happy sigh, he slowly, carefully rolled over and placed his hands around Ashley's stomach, feeling her warmth spread from her to him, utterly different that the heat that had plagued him before. Relaxing his chin against the back of her head, Thomas slipped into a sleep that was more satisfying than any he had experienced for the past week.

* * *

December 30th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Refurbished training facility.

15:22

A major sign that the Alliance brass, or at least the ones who knew about the whole powers-thing, took it seriously, was the fact that what had earlier simply been a vacant storage area Roku had found suitable for training, had now been completely redesigned. Every single crate and crane and piece of equipment had been removed. The floor had been covered in a thick layer of inflammable rubberlike material, the walls as well and the adjacent room had been remade for the purpose of allowing spectators to look on as the training took place, complete with a one-point-four inches bulletproof glass pane to protect said spectators from anything flying their way. A row of Spartan seats were placed there, enough for a small crowd to comfortably follow the utter rape of science as fire and steel was tossed around with little regards to the fact that humans weren't supposed to punch fire or tear titanium.

"_**Faster!"**_ Currently, the spectating room was empty, but the training one was not, which was illustrated when the geth platform dodged a fresh series of fiery punches, each one blazing with the color of emerald. With dexterity supposedly impossible for a machine, the platform bent backwards, avoiding a short lash of green fire that swept straight above its head, dissipating in the air._** "You need to control it. If your weapon disappears after each strike, you will tire yourself out."**_

"I'm trying, alright?" Thomas puffed, breathing hard as he rushed at the aspect, right hand pulsating with a living flame. Control. Right, control. He needed control, not just blind rage and power. Damn it all, why wasn't it enough to just get pissed and kill the bad guys?

Since when was killing something to look forward to?

The thought nearly made him stumble, but Thomas kept up his speed, circling the aspect as it tracked him, following his every movements. The aspect kept up with him, hands held in a pose ready to deflect any attack Thomas could launch at him. As he ran, Thomas unleashed attack after attack, bathing the room in the supernatural glow of green fire, "Chi" made material. He had spent some time going over the datapad Doctor Cole had given him, and found most of it to be exempts from a book called the '_Huangdi Neijing'_, or the Book of the Yellow Emperor. Most of it was with regards to chi used in medicine, but the principles had been there, with an actually outlined map of the chi-flow in the human body.

Roku spun his hands in a circular motion, ripping the fire apart as it was supposed to hit him face-on, spreading the flames outwards and into harmless waves of heat. Thomas growled and launched a new attack, the flushing heat of the flames causing him to sweat profusely during the training. Each stream of green fire was launched with as much control as could be mustered, which was to say little to none at all. Every time he tried controlling the fire more than simply pointing it at Roku, the flames liquefied and splashed to the floor, leaving the smell or warm rubber in the air. Rage, hate and anger were much better in his eyes, and he'd see about making Roku realize it too.

"_**Control. Brute attacks will not work on a foe of equal or higher strength. Control."**_ Thomas wanted to tell Roku where to stick his control. Instead, he pumped a new torrent of fire at the aspect, the sheer heat causing the floor beneath it to sear and darken.

The platform that was Roku dissipated it with little visible effort.

"_**Control! You dimwit, control!"**_

"Why can't - I just - Beat the shit - out of - you - with - normal - fire!?" Thomas exclaimed in his frustration, unleashing a new blast of emerald flame with each. He didn't even stop to ponder why he was so far down the path now that he called fire "normal". It was still butt-raping all accepted science whenever he produced flames in his palms or his feet, but now, science wasn't really all that important as beating the crap out of the berating tin soldier. As opposed to when in a fight for his life, only his right hand seemed to be capable of producing flames now.

Again, Roku simply swatted away the fire with those frustrating movements of his.

"_**Because I am not allowing you to, and neither will any enemy with similar strengths. Realize your potential, and fulfill it."**_ Roku sounded more and more like Thomas's old teacher, berating piece of scrap. The aspect didn't even seem to exert any efforts in blocking Thomas' attacks, which was the most frustrating part of it all. Against Nazara, Thomas had believed himself equal to Roku because he managed to hold against Saren, but when Nazara took over, Roku had been the one to take the full brunt of the attack, while Thomas had just managed to annoy the possessed corpse of Saren, for which he now carried the scars on his face to show.

"What… so it's a deathmatch?" Thomas huffed, coming to a stop while trying to catch his breath. Running and shooting at the same time was demanding as all hell. How'd children in the old Avatar cartoons manage to do it all the time? Training, that's how. But training meant listening to Roku going on and on about how control was better than force.

"_**In the sense that you can perfectly well do your best to try and kill me, or even harm me, but I honestly have no expectations of you succeeding at it."**_

"Not really… the best insensitive to get your student to pay… attention." Thomas panted, standing straight again. If there was one good thing to come along with the exhaustion, it was that the fire tended to sear his hair short cropped the instant he started, but oddly enough stopped short of burning him bald.

"_**I am the undisputed master of divine fire, not a social assistant."**_ The aspect said with a shrug, forming the same kata as he had for the past four days straight. Thomas suspected the aspect took some sort of pleasure in the sparring, seeing how every day had consisted of more training than anything else.

"At least a water-break?" He tried, feeling his legs ready to give beneath him.

"_**Acceptable, I suppose. One minute, that is all."**_ Thomas wasted no time getting to the nearest dispenser of heavenly liquids, pouring his mouth full of delicious H2O with each gulp, replacing the water that had poured from him during the fight. Going at it for hours on end, more than took its toll on him, even if Roku didn't seem to acknowledge it.

"_**Time's up."**_ Roku called, his voice the same despite the synthetic tone it still carried. Aspect or not, his voice still bore the traits of being broadcasted from a machine. Groaning, Thomas extracted himself from the sink, casting a brief glance to the other end of the room, which was split into two main areas, where Tequila and Wrex were playing tug-of-war with a thick beam of metal, warping it in different shapes, causing the metal to groan as human fought Krogan through sheer strength.

"Right, right… I'm dead-beat, you know that?"

"_**It is part of the exercise. To face what is to come, you must be more warrior than a simple soldier. You are the child who found a gun. I will make you proficient in that weapon, no matter how long I must drill you in it."**_ Roku said, taking up the same kata as usual, as always. Thomas found it odd that the thing he learned first was the name of what Roku did, not how to do it or what it did. A "kata", he was fairly sure that was what it was called, was some sort of standing used in martial arts. Beyond thát, and the fact that he remembered it from the Avatar cartoons, he had no idea what good it did here and now.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that…" Thomas huffed, breathed and exhaled, taking up the stance Roku for some reason demanded of him. True, it seemed appropriate to start out like this, physically pressing the air in and out the lungs with one's hands, visualizing the breath like a glowing sphere of energy in the chest, but it just seemed so… foreign. Like it was meant for another culture altogether. Still, he completed the exercise and looked at Roku as the geth-platform mirrored him, more for symbolism than anything else.

"_**Now, try to bring me down only by using your feet. No hands used."**_ Thomas' jaw went slack and his fists clenched in frustration. How the hell was he going to accomplish that?

"What?" But instead of answering, Roku just retook his pose and waited, synthetic eye tracking Thomas. The marine bristled, more annoyed than anything. He could just barely produce enough fire from his feet to propel him in a vacuum, and…wait, how did he know thát? He'd never been in a vacuum while using his powers, had he? At least, not that he could remember. And yet, there was the little tick of knowledge that he could just make enough fire in his feet to do it, yet no knowledge of how or why.

Amnesia really was a bitch.

"Fine…" And he leapt at Roku, trusting the semi-padded floor to prevent him from breaking a bone should he fall, which he most likely would end up doing. As opposed to using his hands, trying to even make his feet catch fire was both difficult and hazardous as all hell. Not only did he have to somehow send his brain into his feet, he also had to be aware of his surroundings at the same time.

Therefore, when he hit Roku and Roku blocked, there wasn't a snuff of flame to be found. He had simply ended up unable to make a single spark on such short notice. Roku grabbed his legs and flung him to the ground, where the padding prevented serious injuries, but nonetheless still caused him pain.

"OW! Fuck!"

"_**This will take some time… you need **_**Control**_**, I keep telling you, but oh no, you're fine with brute force. What, you think the masters of martial arts, the characters in Avatar, or just Ashley when you spar rely on brute force? **_**Control**_** is what they all rely on. Control, and precision."**_

"I could have broken my arm there you fuck!"

"_**Did you?"**_

"Wha-...No, but that's not the point." Thomas growled, wanting more than anything to turn the platform inside out. He winced as his shoulder screamed in protest, but still managed to jump at Roku once more, trying to kick the robot in the face. Still no fire, but if nothing else, he could at least try physically kicking Roku's ass.

Roku simply moved to the side, forcing Thomas to change into a roll in order to avoid breaking his legs upon landing. At least he knew how to do thát without failing. The Homeland Security training had always been about falling without breaking something, more than it had been about actual guns. Coming to his feet, he charged back at the aspect, preparing to simply kick the thing until something better came to mind.

As could be expected, "simply kicking the thing until something better came to mind" was not the best of strategies. At the first kick, Roku simply absorbed the impact, allowing his metal chassis to take the blow. At the next kick, the aspect grabbed Thomas's leg and swatted it away, causing the marine to stumble but remain standing.

"_**Control! Force your energy into your entire being, then send it to where it needs to go!"**_

"Fuck off!" Thomas launched at Roku again, trying in spite to will whatever energy three hours of intensive training left him, and launched a new kick at the aspect, imagining taking the thing's head clean off with a well-aimed kick. A thin hint of green in his vision was the only result he received, and Thomas ended up stumbling across the ground away from Roku, having been tossed aside with the ease of a child with a doll.

"_**Rage and anger are well and fine when you are going for simple brute force, going for pummeling your enemy into submission or simply erase them to the point of leaving but a charred stain…"**_ Roku noted calmly as he seemed to flow around a new attack. Thomas now simply gave fuck to it all and started punching at the aspect as well. He received a mechanical knee in the gut for his trouble, and dropped to the ground, coughing, spitting and gagging, his vision going to and fro along with his consciousness. _**"But when you face an opponent who actually know what he is doing, you can't just disregard focus and control. You are no Krogan, nor even a Ground pounder. Brute force is their domain. You… control, precision and determination."**_

"-gah…"

"_**In this state, Saren would still be able to murder you. Is that what you want?"**_ Roku demanded, but at least withheld any further kicks. One was more than enough, and Thomas barely registered the fact that Roku was speaking at all.

"_**No, I don't think this is what you want at all. Then how come that you continuously attempt with brute force, when all you need is control?"**_ The aspect gave an almost human sigh; _**"Your problem is your rage, your willpower and your lack of control."**_

"-gnnnnhhh…"

"_**Curse it all… you need even more training than I thought… we're dropping the sparring part for now. I imagine you'd want to take the rest of the day off?"**_ He asked, looking at where Tequila was punching holes in the beam of solid steel Wrex was trying to beat her down with. At least she was doing a better job with her training, he thought.

Tequila gritted her teeth, planting her feet on the ground as the Krogan came at her, the beam of steel held firmly in his large hands, warped around his fingers, allowing her no way of prying it from him as he came towards her. Her soles dragged against the rubbery floor as her hands met the steel.

It was an otherworldly feeling. Her fingers weren't stopped by the metal, like logic would have it. Instead, it felt like digging into densely packed clay. She simply felt her hands immerse themselves in the material, gripping the bar of steel like it was nothing. Damn, but this was all so messed up.

Also, it was exhilarating as hell!

"That all you've got, Toad-man?"

"Bah, I haven't even started yet." Wrex shot back, pressing against her. Tequila was sent backwards, the only thing stopping her from falling being the fact that her hands were embedded in the same metal as Wrex's, meaning she wasn't going anywhere.

"Come on, that the best you can do?" She hissed, gripping the metal tighter as Wrex pressed her backwards. The kind of power, "chi", Roku had called it, was completely beyond her capability to comprehend. It was utterly impossible to do what she was currently doing. All science forbade a human from grabbing a beam of steel like a roll of kebab.

Then again, all science forbade reincarnation, didn't it?

"Hmph" The old Krogan simply snorted and pressed forward. Tequila might be able to "bend" at the same level as him, but in sheer physical strength, he was like an elephant bull. A freight train of sheer power. She only hoped her legs weren't going to break at some point, that was all. With a suddenness and speed that completely defied his size, Wrex ripped the metal in half, ripping it from her hands with a force that gave her blisters on the back and palms of each. _Ai! Joder! Matas para te madre, te padre… I can't even keep my grammar straight anymore… Joder, I need a break…_

"Fuck! That hurt you _bastardo!_"

"I thought you wanted better?" He offered with an almost wounded tone, though she could easily hear it was faked and meant to piss her off more than anything. Still, in a good spirit, she supposed. But _damn_ it hurt!

"Joder… Joder… mis manos…" She grit her teeth and stood to face the towering alien. She had to admit, Wrex was kind of intimidating, especially with cartoony-powers, like that Hillary called them. Speaking of which, she needed a chat with that woman sooner or later.

"You want me to fuck your hands?" Wrex asked in mock-confusion. She shot him a flat glare, and the old Krogan chuckled, a rumbling sound that made him almost endearing, if it wasn't for the lack of skin on the back of her hands right now; "Didn't think so. Need a break?"

"Why?... Getting tired, old toad?" She breathed out, wiping sweat from her brow. The salty drops seared the raw muscles on her hands; "Fuck… not a good idea." She hissed, blowing on her hands as tears started stinging her eyes.

"Nah, but you look like you could use a break. 'Sides, I gotta take a piss. Beating up humans makes my bladders run." Wrex laughed. He slammed her back in what was probably meant as a friendly gesture, then left for the toilets. The "friendly" gesture knocked Tequila flat on her face. She was so utterly exhausted that she simply didn't bother getting back up again. Instead, she simply enjoyed the soft floor, treating it like a pillow against the harsh training.

Her eyes, half-shut with exhaustion, glanced at the only other people in the hall. For some reason, Thomas had copied her own state, and was sprawled on the floor as well. She could hear Roku saying something, but the exact words were lost to her in the distance.

She had no real idea of how long had passed before the thumbing steps of Wrex were by her side again. Turning her head, she caught sight of the massive, plated feet of the space-toad.

"…huh."

"Alright, let's get a move on. I have another exercise for you, if you're up to it." The old alien said. Tequila sighed and tried pushing herself up, but found her arms completely drained for strength. _Joder_…_already?_

"Might… need a little help getting up." She muttered sheepishly, a rare thing for her. Wrex just huffed at her awkward request, grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her on her feet in one rough movement. The result left her on wavering legs, but at least standing again.

"Better?"

"Yeah… maybe. No. Yeah, I'm… I just need something to drink." She panted, eying the sink in the corner. It had been installed already the first time they'd been there, back when the room was still used for storage, and she had no idea why. Didn't matter _now_, of course. Now, it was salvation in the form of chrome steel carrying water. It was Mother Mary's grace upon her frail, mortal shoulders. Wrex grunted and let her go, spending the time she used to drink, to scratch where one apparently wasn't allowed to scratch when females were around. When she returned, more or less rejuvenated, he gave her a small nod, then picked up a new metallic object, this time a six-inch plate of iron.

Iron, he had found, was easier to bend and break and control, because it was less pure than steel, and thus held more natural particles than any other metal. At Tequila's questioning look, he explained;

"Now. Think you can do a little punching?" Tequila nodded, though both looked and was apprehensive at the prospect of further harming hand hands. While taking a drink, she had used the break to apply a healthy dose of Medigel to booth hands, plus wrappings that would at least act as skin-replacements for the moment.

Instead of trying a new spar with her, Wrex held the plate in front of her, like her old CQC-instructor had had people do when drilling them in kickboxing. She hadn't enjoyed it as much as the others, but still passed the exercise.

"You want me to punch a piece of steel?"

"Iron, but yeah, that's about it. Figured you'd need a break from steel, and iron's easier." At Wrex's explanation, Tequila shook her head and huffed, but didn't offer any further comments. _Right, just like those fantasy-flicks, with a metal bending Krogan… I can't imagine where they got the idea from though._

"Oh the irony…" She muttered in the end, clenched her fist and focused on where she was going to hit the metal. First time was always more than a little scary, because she had to punch the metal with enough force that without the powers, her fingers would break instantly. Visualization, luckily, had always been natural to her. Had to, for a rifleman. There had been little use for a rifleman without the ability to visualize back in the USCM.

Hence, when she punched at the metal, the pain was weak and ignorable compared to the impact she made. There, right where her fist was now shallowly embedded in the iron, was a nice, soft feeling of having actually pounded something with the consistency of butter. Weird, really, but she wasn't going to complain. Being able to punch a thick plate of iron might never have been on her list of to-do's, but it sure as hell was nice.

"Damn, I'm good."

"Hmph. Again." And Tequila punched the plate again, leaving an impression of her fist in the metal; "Again…Again…Again…Again." Each word was followed by Tequila delivering a fresh punch to the metal, slowly transforming the once pristine iron into something that could have been hauled from a junkyard; "Again…Again…Again…Again…Again…"

Each punch left an imprint of her fist in the metal, each impact turning the heavy iron into more and more warped scrap that looked more like it had been the target for a rain of bullets than a human fist. Sweat breaking over her brows as she kept hitting the metal with every ounce of strength she had left. "Metalbending" as she figured she might as well call it, was surprisingly easy once the basics had been nailed down.

First, all the energy Roku constantly referred to as "Chi" had to be in the limbs she wanted to interact with, in this case her arms, wrists, hands, knuckles and fingers. It was a painstakingly long and tedious thing to learn, and she couldn't even look anything up on the extranet, unless one believed the things about Chinese men setting fire to a piece of paper by using Chi. Then again, while they offered little advice, those Chinese might as well be right, considering the constant pounding accepted science took each day.

Second, she had to get a feel for whatever she was trying to interact with. Wrex said simple rock and dirt was the easiest, since it was closest to the Gift, whatever exactly that was. She wasn't buying the story about a giant worm giving Chi to the space-toads, not even close. A lot had happened so far, but thát was impossible. Rock was supposed to be a clay-like mass, according to Wrex. Easy to interact with and mold and destroy. Iron was the next best thing, often made from enough impurities that it almost was like rock, but not quite. She couldn't see the impurities like Wrex seemed to, but she could "see" them, simply by feeling for the stuff whenever she touched the metal and actively looked for it.

Third, she had to concentrate her energy and strength where it was needed, and then pump as much force into those points as she possibly could. Those were the steps for manipulating and using the material she could see and touch. This was already hard enough, but according to Wrex, manipulating rock and metal more than a meter away, made what she was doing now seem like a fucking fieldtrip. With as much effort as punching iron and warping steel was, she hated to think about how hard controlling a larger body of rock, iron or steel, or Hell, even something like hitting iron _here_ and making it jut out _over there_.

"…Again…Again!"

Unbeknownst to any of those exercising, even Roku, the observation-room now held a spectator. The old woman's graying red hair was tied into a ponytail behind her head, for once not getting in the way of her eyes. Her face still held the gaunt look it had when the Normandy survivors returned to Arcturus, but unlike then, now her eyes held the prospect of hope and opportunity, and her lips were creased in a smile.

* * *

**So Tequila is better at handling her stuff than Thomas... go figure.**

**The "book of the Yellow Emperor" mentioned when Thomas thought back to his reading, is an actual book detailing the applications of Chi in medicine, healing and martial arts, written in what we know as the early middle ages. Not sure what Chinese Dynasty it was though... **

**Also, and this is purely optional, but do you want me to add a sort of explanatory part of conversation in the stroy, where Roku explains everything about Chi, Cole explains it or Thomas simply reflects some more over it? If not, this is probably the last chapter before we start skipping days at the time, proceeding to where shit starts hitting the fan.**

**Till next time, and by Talos! hit the damnable "review" option, or I'll have no idea if you like this or not. Also just discovered "Attack on Titan"... brutal and damn good show :3**


	6. Just another routine mission

**Well, I have decided that this is the final chapter we're giving the crew to recover from the Normandy's attack. Thus, we're finishing what loose ends might be to find, and shipping out. Some might be surprised when the new mission is revealed, some might have anticipated it for some time. **

* * *

**Just another routine mission**

* * *

January 3rd, 2184.

Anadius, Horsehead Nebula

Cronos Station

19:27

"Sir, you have an incoming caller." Cross called from her position somewhere in the vast facility of rooms and corridors that expanded beyond the meager, but very much expensive, doors. The man, once known to the public simply as Jack Harper, mashed his cigarette into the tray before pulling up the display, showing an unusual 'Source Unknown' instead of the name.

It was odd, because very few people in the galaxy he knew off had the technical and technological prowess to hide themselves from his systems. This left just two possible callers, both spelling some rather frustrating news, in each their way. If it was the Shadow Broker, it was likely something rather dubious, morally wrong and short-termed to be flung at him. The Illusive Man had no real clues as to what the Shadow Broker was, but former dealings suggested a species with little patience, therefore not Asari or Hanar.

The other possibility, could prove far more frustrating, but also far more rewarding in what it represented.

"Let it through. Keep our firewalls up, though." Even if it was _her_, he would never discount the possibility of her trying to bring down his organization in a fit of rage over something she believed him to have planned and carried out.

A holographic shape flickered to life in his private projector, a ring of displays and sensors that together formed a 3D-picture of an Alliance officer. The smile he always wore when contacting people, a suit of business, faded when he noticed the lack of said same smile on her face.

"Anna."

"Jack." There was little, if any of the friendly tones to her voice that he remembered from her last call, most likely due to what Sovereign represented, and the threat that still lurked. Thát, or it could be due to the destruction of the SSV Normandy, her most priced vessel, as well as the demise of its de-facto CO, Alliance Commander John'Shepard.

Picking a fresh cigarette from his casing, he lit it and watched her with eyes he knew some found unsettling, and even downright frightening. The old and grizzled Alliance Admiral though, seemed to have no reaction towards them whatsoever.

"To what do I owe the honor of you calling me, an act no doubt illegal for a multitude of reasons?" He asked, keeping his tone cool, collected and most important of all, friendly. There was really no need in his eyes to antagonize the probably most intimidating woman in the galaxy.

"I suspect, with the spies you undoubtedly have in my organization, that you have learned about the Normandy by now?" She asked in a more calm tone than he would have expected from her. Now that he looked, she did appear more than a little tired. The truth also was, that so far the destruction of the Normandy wasn't public knowledge. The Alliance seemed to want to keep a lid on it for as long as possible, probably to have a suspect to show when the questions came rolling in.

"I have. Terrible misfortune, I agree. I hear Commander Shepard was among the dead?" There was a flash of anger across the woman's face, disappearing just as soon as it had been there.

"Aye. You know why I'm calling?"

"I have a few suspicions. But please, do explain." He said with the casual, smooth-yet-commanding tone his employees were subjugated to. It was so much a habit that he wasn't aware he used it on Anna. The Admiral huffed in clear annoyance;

"People, those who don't buy the bullshit with the Parliament being the leading factor behind the Quarians entering the Alliance, believe I was the sole orchestrator." She started. The Illusive Man puffed on his cigarette before speaking for her, knowing what she was alluding to;

"But in reality, you couldn't have done it without John'Shepard and his connections, could you?" The scowl on his face proved he had hit the spot.

* * *

January 5th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Apartment D-5, rented by: Thomas. V. Fisher, Ashley. M. Williams

04:21

_Debris…wreckage… flames._

_Everything a haze of destruction, panic… fear…_

_Desperation…angst…_

_Death abundant, all around him…_

"_JOHN!" A voice, his own? A blur, everything going into the wrong colors._

_Fear, panic, struggle… energy?_

_Sensations, colors of hope? He wasn't sure… was he? Was she? _

_Blackness, coldness, darkness. _

_A hand, his own? Reaching out, towards what? Black and white at the same time, wrong shapes._

"_JOHN!" Shouting, but silent, no sound. Desperation and hope, fear… and relief?_

_New shapes, new forms, new colors._

_New feelings… confusion? Fear? Anxiety… disbelief?_

_Fire… green, but… sour and sad… sad? _

_Sadness… despair…fear?_

_Failure… failure of what? Shapes again. A voice…_

"_Convergence is nigh…" Red colors, dark colors… a new voice. _

"_JOHN!" _

"JOHN!"

Everything came back in an explosion of sensations, of colors, smells, feelings. His body drenched in sweat, heart beating like it was about to explode from his body. _WHAT- WHAT- WHAT?_

Tears flowed down his cheeks, he could feel thát at least. No, not at least. There was so much more he could feel. The fear, the grief, sadness, the sense of complete failure. The dream, while merely a blur, was still vivid in his memory, causing his breathing to intensify as he struggled to take in more air than he needed, causing specks of light to appear in his vision.

Then, hands. Soft, caring hands on his left shoulder and chest. The knowledge that someone else was there, that he wasn't alone.

"Thomas. Thomas, calm down." A voice, warm, caring, loving, concerned, reassuring. Beautiful and firm, but soft at the same time.

His vision returned, allowing him to take in his surroundings. He was in the bed, in the apartment, which meant he was as much at home as he could get. There was still the familiar, soft humming of the climate control in the corner, providing an audible bridge to reality. His chest was covered in cold sweat, the covering beneath him and the sheet above him sharing the same predicament.

Then there was the hands on him, the feeling of safety and comfort brought forth by their touch. Eyes seeking the source, he found Ashley's hazel eyes locked on him in the darkness. A surge of relief washed over him as he hugged her close, craving the familiar safety provided by the woman he loved.

"It was a nightmare… nothing more." She spoke softly, her gentle voice slowing down both his heart and breathing to a calmer state. Some might claim that adults had no need for comforting after a nightmare, but Thomas was currently of another opinion, and saw in Ashley his shield against the darkness that had invaded his mind. Ashley kissed his forehead, but said nothing more as she simply held him close, allowing him to return to a feeling of safety.

"…Sorry." Thomas muttered after a few minutes.

"What for?" She asked with concern in her voice.

"It's the middle of the night…I woke you up, didn't I?" He said, feeling ashamed that she would lose sleep because he needed comforting like some child. The dream, or nightmare, still hung in the back of his mind, an eerie presence that refused to leave.

Ashley didn't answer right away, instead opting to lightly peck him on the lips. It was a small gesture of love and comfort, but it meant so much more than could be put into words. His breath caught in his throat, Thomas looked at his love with new eyes, taking in her beauty and the compassion shining through her eyes.

"I love you." She whispered. Thomas stared at her, dumbfounded and unable to immediately come up with a response, even if the answer was obvious; "So I don't mind losing a bit of sleep if it is to help you."

"…Ash…" He whispered, his throat hoarse with emotions pouring through him, the main portion of it being simple and overwhelming love for the woman in his arms, though, and he noted this with some humor, _he_ was currently in _her_ arms.

There was an irony in that, which he secretly found much more compelling than being the rock of confidence himself.

"Feel like talking about it?" There it was again, the reason she was his light and love. The ever-present concern and care she showed for him, the instincts being the elder sister had drilled into her. He only hoped that he, in his own ways, could give her the same. She deserved it. Gods knew, she deserved it more than he ever could.

"…I…don't know. It's… jumbled, like… it's there, but then isn't. I just know it was painful." He muttered, then added with a wry smile; "Has to be, doesn't it, for a nightmare?"

The solemn look on Ashley's face was clear even in the darkness.

"The thing that woke me… you were shouting John's name." She said with a low, soft voice. Thomas' eyes widened in shock, having not expected something like that. He blinked, trying to gauge Ashley's expression in the lack of light. He wasn't even going to guess at what time it was.

"What? I mean… I… shouted?"

"Mmm. I didn't know what was wrong at first, but then you yelled 'John!' again, and I woke you up." Thomas felt more than a little shame well up in him at the knowledge that he had literally screamed into her ears, not something he'd ever wanted to do.

"Oh crap… Ash, I'm sorry, I didn't…" He tried. A pair of fingers put to his lips signaled for him to stop talking, and he obliged.

"It's okay. Do you remember why you'd be calling for him?" She asked, concern easily distinguishable in her voice.

"I don't know… I mean, I remember… I was scared, and cold… and I don't even remember what happened at all… It sucks… What if… what if I yelled because I failed at saving John's life? They said I was at the cockpit when the attack happened… what if… what if I could have saved John, but didn't?" There it was. The thought that had bothered and harassed him for more than a week now. The thought that, maybe, John would still be alive if _he_ hadn't failed.

Suddenly, firm hands locked on his cheeks, even if one had to eek between his head and the bed to get there. His head held in her grip, Thomas looked at Ashley with confusion roaming his mind;

"Thomas. Listen to me. You are _not_ responsible for people's deaths. No matter what powers you are learning to control, you are _not _to blame for the deaths of our friends." There was a command in her voice, so much more than she had used when giving him orders on the field. He wanted to believe her, to just accept that it wasn't his fault and move on…

"But I was_ right_ _the-_"

"No." Ashley cut him off, sitting up in the bed. In other moments, he would admire the silhouette she made against the tinted window towards the interior of the station. Now though, he simply was enraptured by her words;

"Yes, you were there. So was Joker and a lot of crewmembers, most of which had served for longer than either of us. You did your damned best, I know you did, and John's death wasn't your fault. I told you this when we lost Sev, I told you this when we lost Fixer, I told you this when we lost Garrus: It is _Not. Your. Fault._"

"How?" He asked quietly, sitting up next to her. It was only his left eye that allowed him to see, through utilizing several spectrums outside normal human view, giving him a colored type of night vision that Emhart had explained was based on a cat's pupil; "Roku said I sent him away before anything happened, and I was the only one who could have done anything… I _want_ to think it wasn't my fault, Gods, I want to believe it…"

"Thomas…" Ashley sighed, pulling him into a hug; "I know, believe me, I know what you are going through. I felt the same thing when I lost people under my command. People supposed to survive under my leadership…" Thomas heaved for breath as tears still flowed from his eyes.

"Does it ever go away? The guilt, the… the shame…?" He asked, his voice croaked with grief. Everything he had tried suppressing was coming back up now. Every failure, every death due to his failing to act. Every innocent whose life was cut short because _he hadn't checked for the chestburster._ Because he _hadn't warned Eden Prime_. Because… Because of all the secrets.

"…No…No, it doesn't. It gets better though. Less… hurting. Did for me after Eden Prime."

"How?"

"You. You helped me through it. Didn't hurt that you saved Hillary's life too, but it was mainly that you helped me when I stumbled, when I wanted to keep punching a wall until my knuckles broke…Didn't help that I felt like we were just replacing Commander Dawson and his team." Thomas blinked, unable to speak as he took in her words. _He_ had helped _her_?

"I didn't know…" He muttered as they remained in the embrace. The fact that her naked skin was pressed against his was nowhere near being as important as her sheer presence. He simply felt like he _belonged_ when they were like this, embraced and united against the galaxy.

They were, he started to realize, both broken soldiers who repaired one another. Step by step, psychological issue and trauma by psychological issue and trauma.

For some reason, a chuckle escaped him.

* * *

January 5th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Refurbished training facility.

17:22

Despite the lack of sleep he had suffered, Thomas was feeling oddly invigorated as he proceeded with the last stages of the day's training. Roku had, thankfully, abandoned sparring for the time being. Thomas was nothing short of overjoyed when he found out that Roku instead wanted him to kick the crap out of a Kevlar-dummy, preferably by setting it on fire.

It was in many ways much easier than against an actual opponent, as the dummy wasn't yelling at him to utilize even more control, nor was it kneeing him in the balls when he snapped and punched it with a bionic fist, causing the target to swing wildly before being stopped by aforementioned hand.

Still, no fire.

Which was more than annoying because Roku hadn't stopped berating, admonishing and tutoring like he was back in Elementary.

"And what are the basics of Chi?" Roku demanded as Thomas landed a new kick, trying to will as much energy as possible into every hit. The best he had done so far was to singe the hair on his foot, leaving an acrid smell in the air.

At least Roku was in his normal voice, not the divine-ish tone he used when pissed.

"Chi is energy… and… comes from the breath." Thomas huffed as he kicked again. And again, and again.

"And what schools are known concerning Chi?" The question caused Thomas to miss the dummy, which in turn continued its swing and hit him in the chest.

"…Schools?" If a geth platform was capable of sighing, Roku was doing so at the moment.

"Have you even _read_ what Cole gave you?" The aspect asked in exasperation. Being his make-shift teacher in the arts of chi and what power followed, Roku had been involved in Anna's scheme. Aside from being annoyed that the Admiral still believed to copy it by ways of science, he had none of the reservations about it that Thomas had displayed.

"I've read plenty. Chi is energy from breathing, theorized and discovered in the early Tang Dynasty, and a circulative system has been mapped for nearly a thousand years."

"You've looked at pictures and read their descriptions…"The way Roku stated it as a fact and not a question, annoyed Thomas. Mostly because it was true. There was just so _much_ material, and whenever Thomas was training, he was too exhausted to read _anything_, let alone scientific philosophy and Chinese medicine; "There is a potentially infinite amount of schools concerning Chi and its applications, as each utilization is a new school."

"Which means fire is one school and Tequila's Metalbending is another?" At least the geth nodded at this;

"Each element, as we'll call them for easiness' sake, belongs with a special type of Chi-school. "Metal- and Earthbending", which is what Tequila and the Krogan people is capable of, belongs with the defensive school of Chi, and is centered around physical strength and endurance." As if to prove Roku's point, there was a series of strained grunts as Tequila and Wrex punched away at large plates of metal.

"Fire, "Firebending" or FEE as your sister's scientists call it, is centered around focus, determination, willpower and breathing. Without the breath, there is no energy, and without energy, no fire. Where The Krogans are focused on defensive chi, your power belongs to the offensive school. Following me so far?"

"I think so. But if I'm only offensive, how come bullets can't hurt me?" Thomas asked, leaning against the heavy dummy. Roku raised a metallic finger;

"Ah, but have you been able to immolate since our separation?" He asked, apparently expecting a "no".

"When we fought Saren, I think I did." He muttered, hating even thinking back to the fight that had cost Garrus his life; "Why?"

Roku, as if to prove a point, instantly became bathed in green fire, coating his entire form in emerald flames. The heat, even from meters away, was uncomfortable;

"Immolation is something that only the true masters can perform. Needless to say, I am one such. It takes _years_ of training for what can be described as a Host or an aura-wielder, to master this. So far, you have yet to produce even a flicker of fire in your feet, let alone complete immolation… Still, the fight with Saren and Nazara _could _have pushed something… I do not know."

"Damn… _years_? But what about the Collectors?" Thomas asked, more frustrated than annoyed.

"Those… they will likely be a problem before we can finish your training. But remember, power is not solely what is within, but also those who are around you. Now then, I'd say this concludes today's training." Roku said, clapping his hands like a well-satisfied coach. In essence, that _was_ what he was, so it made a sort of sense.

As Thomas nodded and left for his own apartment where a shower was waiting, Roku remained, looking at the dummy. He was growing ever more concerned with each day Thomas failed to produce results, and any help from Athane had yet to appear.

"Dammit, Athane… whatever you are planning, I hope it will be worth the losses we've suffered."

…

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Corridors between training facility and private apartment of Fisher and Williams.

17:59

What had surprised Thomas the most about Arcturus, wasn't the size of the station. It was still dwarfed multiple times by the Citadel, and was not even as big as a single ward of the Galactic center.

No, what had surprised him, was the fact that, making up the center for the entire civilian and public sector of the station, was a large, outdoors area. Of course, it wasn't _outdoors_, as that would mean 'in space', but a large park-like area with trees, bushes and bioluminescent streetlights made from algae, which also helped produce oxygen for the station.

So enraptured was Thomas as he walked along the sidewalk, that when he turned a corner, he didn't see the man in front of him before the impact. The two stumbled but remained standing, and Thomas was about to offer every apology he could think of, until he saw just who he had walked into.

"C-Captain?" He stuttered, feeling his heart beating well out of his chest. Standing in front of him, and with a mixture of surprise and interest painted on his face, Captain David Anderson seemed to have recognized him as well. With the scars, Thomas supposed, recognition wasn't all that hard.

"Chief Fisher. Sorry, I didn't quite see where I was going." At least he didn't sound mad, or angry or annoyed. Thomas had feared that would happen ever since he'd discovered Anderson to be in the observation-room during his training with Roku.

"No, no, I didn't pay attention to where… it was my fault, sir." Anderson let out a small chuckle at that, as if finding something funny.

"Hmm… sir. Well, it does seem like a lifetime ago, when we picked the four of you up on Eden Prime." The old captain said, gesturing for Thomas to walk with him. The man was both a superior officer as well as a person Thomas wanted on his good side more than anything, so he followed.

"I suppose it does, sir." Thomas agreed. For a few moments, none of them spoke as they simply walked.

"Back then, when we took you on board. Did you have those… powers, there too?" Anderson asked after the short pause. Thomas sighed, having feared the questions the man would ask if they ever talked again. This was not one of them, and this he could at least answer truthfully.

"No, sir. I don't think I did. Noveria was really the first time I realized what I could do. After that… I was in training, by Roku." Thomas felt that, if Anderson had observed their training already, nothing bad would come from revealing Roku's name.

"Ah, the geth-platform. Yes, that definitely was one of the bigger surprises I had all last year. So, is "he" really a geth, or something more?"

"…Something more, I guess, sir."

"Secret?" Anderson's question made Thomas blink, and almost stop walking as he processed the word. The captain definitely _seemed_ much more sympathetic to his situation so far, than what he had feared.

"I don't know, sir. If you order me to speak, I have to, don't I?" Thomas asked, his voice small and cautious. While he knew personalities like Jane, John or even Ashley and Anna, Anderson's reactions were still somewhat unknown.

"Not really, no. I suspect anything of real importance has already been shared with your aunt. If it's critical or otherwise important, I'm sure she already knows." Anderson's words made Thomas smile a bit, as it meant there would be no awkward prying and evading questions. Still, an awkward silence hung over them, with hundreds of questions no doubt on the Captain's mind.

"Sir?" Thomas asked after a while of silence.

"Yes?"

"Why… did you give up the Normandy to John?" It was a question that had been on his mind since the first day serving, and so far he hadn't been able to figure out the man's reasons.

"Let's just say, your aunt has a lot more pull than you'd think possible." There was an entertained grin to the man's expression as he said it, which just served to confuse Thomas even further.

"Wait, did Anna order you to give up the Normandy?" He asked with disbelief; "Why?"

"I suspect she had some long-term plans unfit for us common minds. Possibly it was because she wanted to show how much the Quarians had to offer, like she ordered the shipments to Elysium delivered by a Quarian battle group, not standard Alliance warships. She's been fighting pirates longer than I've been alive, which is quite some time." The captain said; "Who knows, maybe she suspected an attack was imminent, or maybe she just had some damn good luck. Either way, John'Shepard proved that the Quarians could work well with human crews, and Admiral Gerrel proved that the Quarians were willing to fight for Humanity over Elysium."

"Sometimes, Anna scares me." Thomas added with a low voice, both amused and slightly horrified by the amount of variables Anna constantly seemed to work with. Anderson let out a weak chuckle;

"I think she scares a lot of people, Chief. It's why she's good at what she does. Personal opinion though, no need to spread it." The man said as they reached the area where Thomas' apartment was located.

"Noted sir." Thomas nodded. He was about to bid the Captain goodbye, when his Omnitool chimed up, his personal ringtone, "Wish master" by Nightwish, alerting the entire area to the fact that old music still rocked. Anderson took this as his cue to leave, and Thomas brought up the transmission;

"Fisher here."

"Chief, it's Hillary. Shepard just gave the order to meet up at the military docking bay D-5A. Do you know where that is?" He was always glad to hear Hillary's voice, even if she _did_ insist on calling him 'sir' and 'chief' whenever he wasn't actively reminding her to just call him by his name.

"Yeah I know that one. We docked there the first time the Normandy was on Arcturus. When's the deadline?"

"Now, actually. Chief Williams said your equipment is there already. See you there, Sir."

"Hillary, just call me… hello?" She had hung up on him the moment she had delivered her message. On one hand, it was admirable that she took everything with that level of professionalism and seriousness, but on the other, it gave him the impression she still was a bit off-put about the whole thing with powers; "Well… there goes my shower."_ Let's just get this over with so I can get back and relax… _

Thankful that he was at least wearing his civilian overcoat and long, if thin, running outfit's pants, Thomas made his way to the docking area meant for use only by military personnel and such was not open to the public. Instant recipe for conspiracy-theories right there, he mused as he jogged the short trip.

When he arrived, he had to show military ID to a marine guarding the entrance in a security booth. It was funny, those things that hadn't changed a bit since 2011. Except of course that now the marines had full-on body armor, hyper-sonic rifles and space-capable helmets. _Ah, the wonders of technology…_

Inside, the docking bay was actually more of a hangar, with hundreds of shuttles, gunships and assorted vehicles lining the gigantic hall in long rows of metal. One of the central walkways was currently occupied by what was left of the Normandy's ground crew, lined up with Jane standing in front of them. That was about as far as military discipline seemed to reach though, as they, like Thomas himself, were in various states of civilian dressing. Had discipline been a key factor here, it would have been disciplinary punishment all around for lack of military display… or something like that. The weariness was taking its toll on Thomas as he joined the group.

From a team that had at its peak supported no less than fourteen highly lethal and effective soldiers from around the galaxy and beyond, now remained just half of that. A person quickly discovered to be missing was Liara, and Scorch seemed somewhat distracted. Scratch that, Thomas realized. The clone seemed _a lot_ more distracted than usually. It struck him then, that _none_ of the aliens were present.

"Listen… I know, that we have suffered tremendous losses. I know how big a toll it takes on you, losing friends and loved ones like that." Jane started, none of her usual military professionalism or efficiency present in her tone. It was just one comrade speaking to the rest.

"I know, how much it hurts. How much you might just want to quit it all and hide in a corner. We lost the Normandy, we lost friends, colleagues… we lost a commander better than any I have ever served with, but more than anything, we lost family. Now, we are what remains." If Jane wanted to lift their spirits, Thomas thought, she wasn't doing a very good job at it.

"But, remember what we are. Before we are colleagues, before we are friends, before we are brothers and sisters, we are Alliance Soldiers. Each and every one of us has stared death in the eye more than once, and will do it again and again. It's what we _do_." There was more power behind her words now, but they still remained solemn and personal.

"Alliance Command has decided to deploy us on escort-duty for once, for a team of engineers and technicians. It's not a difficult task, and we'll be accompanied by a member of the N7's." Jane switched to a much more professional tone, indicating that the briefing had started. Thomas cringed at the prospect of getting instantly redeployed while wearing just his sportswear. The captain pulled a projection up on her Omnitool, and transferred it to the emitter located in the floor, allowing for a much larger and higher resolution of the object.

It was… it looked like either a ship or a space station, Thomas wasn't sure which. It was completely unlike any he had ever seen, at least in the Alliance Navy. Maybe older models looked different, but this thing looked completely _alien_ from any type of ship he had seen so far. What looked like an open ribcage was making up most of the ship's length, while a pair of blocky towers made up the rear… or front, of the ship. Long appendixes, like wings were jutting from beneath the vessel.

"This is the MSV Ishimura. It's a mining-vessel of the Planet-cracker type, which means it's pretty damn big. It went dark after a mission to one of the outer colonies, travelling through the Terminus systems. We don't know if they came under attack or simply suffered from a blackout in their central systems, caused by a solar flare maybe. We're shipping out with a small frigate, the SSV Kellion, in one hour, at the dot. Get prepped and meet back here by then. Questions?"

"Captain?" Nicolai asked. Jane nodded to one of their two remaining heavy gunners, the other being Tequila.

"Who's the N7?"

"You met him on Virmire, actually. N7 Sergeant Isaac Clarke is a highly skilled combatant and field-engineer. While we're in his company, I expect you all to respect anything he says, adhere to his advice on situations and follow his lead in case the Ishimura has been boarded by pirates. Any other questions?"

"Shepard?" This time it was Ashley's turn to ask. Thomas suspected she still held some amount of resentment towards the redhead, but significantly less than what they had started out with. Jane nodded;

"Why are they sending us to retrieve a mining vessel, and why just our team? Wouldn't this be a job for an Alliance Battlegroup?"

"You're not wrong, Williams. Normal protocol for these situations state that relief for possible boarding or hijacking should consist of several ships, if not an entire battlegroup. However, sending that many ships into the Terminus would likely do more harm than good for the Alliance, and as such we're going in with the Kellion. As for why this requires our involvement… from what I understand, the Ishimura was returning with enough minerals to churn out an Everest-class Dreadnought. Its cargo is worth billions of credits, and currently, the campaign against Saren has left the Alliance somewhat… drained, for resources. I take it there are no more questions?"

As no one spoke, Jane dismissed the team and sat down on a crate, running a hand through her hair. With Even Kaidan gone, she was well and truly alone in the hangar, regardless of how many were still mulling about.

Her crew had suffered so much during the entire campaign against Saren and Sovereign, it was just cruel irony that only after the campaign was done with, would they suffer the largest amount of casualties yet, as well as the Normandy getting destroyed.

"Fuck… John, I'm sorry, I'll… I'll make sure to take care of the team. I'll… I'll do better." She muttered to no one in particular. A ghost in the room, if anyone, would be her audience. Jane Shepard had a lot of regrets, a lot of patches in the tapestry that was her life. Those patches were times she wanted to forget, even if they had shaped her into who she was now. Magnus would probably have called it sentimentally squandering.

At least, at least she could bring the team on this one easy mission, just to take their minds off the disasters they had been through.

* * *

**Well, well, well. **

**Who saw thát coming? As you might remember, there's been enough camoes of DS-characters and references in the story to fill a truck. Now, let's see if I can do justice to a game that had me nearly shitting myself the first time I played it, though "Downfall" was way more scary than the game... go figure.**

**Also, before the question is asked: No, Nicole is not dead. She is alive and well/pregant on New Canton, and never went to the Ishimura. So Isaac won't see her there. **

**That is all for this time. **

**See ya :)**


	7. MSV Ishimura

**Alright.**

**In order to write the DS-arch of this story, I've had to both rewatch "Dead Space: Downfall" and replay the first game. **

**Lesson learned so far: Mercer is a bitch with a real nice voice, and the Hunter is made of a Scorpion that fucked a nightmare, had a zombie-child, fucked thát too, then had a baby called the Hunter.**

**I really hate that thing...**

**This time: People come and people go, the crew sets out on their "routine-mission" and we are reunited with a friend from Valhalla.**

* * *

**MSV Ishimura**

* * *

January 5th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Hangar D-5A, Military access only.

18:42

An hour was all that passed between the dismissal and the return of the crewmembers, and Jane had moved only to gather her equipment, then promptly returned to her crate. Despite the prospect of an easy, simple mission, she felt no anticipation or excitement whatsoever at going back into the fray.

Dying once, that was enough to make most people snap, she could imagine. But nearly dying twice, then instead losing her ship and most valued colleague… a man who practically was her counterpart in every sense of the word… it was hard.

As the team joined up, she noticed a change in the mood. It wasn't the gloom of grief now, but neither was it a raised morale, something she could use. It was something in the air, something unsaid. She could see it on the way they stood, the way they carried themselves. At least Scorch was probably a bit more energic. He always seemed to…

Jane did a double-take as she realized who had met and who hadn't. Scorch was nowhere to be seen, and now Boss was the one looking conflicted and troubled, his feelings radiating from behind his helmet. It was clear something was wrong, and it wasn't an injury. Before she could address this though, something happened that she had in no way expected nor anticipated.

A new soldier stepped up. He was wearing a completely new set of Phase-II armor, painted in a dark green digital camouflage-pattern, complete with a set of holsters and compartments strapped to his armor in what seemed like a replacement for a combat-vest. His helmet carried a thick stripe of the same color down its forehead and visor, stopping where the breather started.

The others seemed to have the same reaction to the newcomer.

"Wait… who're you?" Tengberg, being the one with the probably most civilian mindset on the team, broke the ice. Jane had found the man to be one of the more talkative, if brash and somewhat naïve people on the Normandy. In a way, he reminded her of Richard Jenkins, only with an affinity for heavy weapons.

"Hi, I'm Corporal Adrian Shepard. You know, the guy who softened up the big zombie-Krogan on Valhalla for you?" The man said. If he was surprised at the reaction his name caused, he didn't let it show beyond his helmet. Of course, Fisher was the first to speak up;

"Wait- Wait, hold- You're… no no no… No more Shepards… Can't take it. Can't take it. Can't…" Jane's eyes widened as the Chief started grabbing his own head, as if entering a seizure of some sort. It didn't get better when the only two people to not somehow shrink away from the corporal were Tequila and Boss, the latter still carrying the same air of distress though.

"What?"

"Corporal, what are you doing here?" Jane asked as much as demanded, trying to steer the focus away from the unlucky name resemblance. Shepard turned to look at her, obviously still confused.

"I heard you had a mission, and… well, pretty much my entire battalion got slaughtered on Valhalla, so it's just me now. I already heard how the Normandy takes in irregular individuals, so… can you use me? I mean, not like I got much better shit to do, is it?" The man offered.

"When did you get out of hospital? Last time I saw you, you were in a rather bad shape." Boss shot in. Jane still hated the fact that they seemed to be one Bulwark short of the usual. Hopefully, Scorch was just saying goodbye to Liara.

"Around…" Adrian stopped, looking at his watch, an actual wristwatch instead of the Omnitool; "Seven hours ago. Be amazed what a few days in this new stuff the Alliance has can do to you. Threw me in a tank with gel, came out a few days later, good as new, minus being thirsty as shit, but what can you do?"

"I like him. Captain, we still recruiting?" Hillary asked, seemingly past being appalled by the name and now more amused than anything. Adrian turned his head to glance at Hillary, armored and helmeted as she was in the trademark Phoenix-colors.

"You know the Normandy's gone, don't you?" Jane asked. The corporal nodded, a bit more solemn than before at least. Anything less, and Jane suspected someone would have punched him for lack of respect.

"I heard."

"Then why do you want to come with us? You even know our mission?" Kaidan, being a lieutenant, was the first to ask a question that Jane herself had been uncertain how to word.

"As I said, I'm all that's left of my entire battalion. Don't see much use for me in the regular armed forces, but your team, is all individuals and specialists. As for the mission… no clue." Jane wanted to publically palm her face, but resisted the urge. The last thing she needed was another Isaac Clarke, and this guy seemed to fit the criteria for just thát.

"…Fine, you can come. Lord knows we'll get to bore our asses off, unless pirates actually attacked the damned thing. You'll be taking orders from me, Alenko, Williams, Fisher and Boss. Now, Boss…" Jane sighed, redirecting her attention at the commando;

"Ma'am?"

"Where's Scorch?" Jane asked. For the first time since she had met the damned clone, Boss was silent. He actually _hesitated_ answering a superior officer's question, which was so unusual, Jane suspected he simply hadn't heard it.

"He…decided to follow his own path." Boss finally said, immense pain and shame clear in his voice. The entire crew did a double-take at the Squad-leader, eyes wide behind their helmets.

"Come again?" Because Jane was sure as hell she had either misheard or misunderstood Boss. Instead of answering, the clone pulled out his Omnitool, and projected an audio recording.

"_Listen… I fully understand if each and every one of you will hate me for this, but… truth is, I can't take this anymore. I just… I can't take it. All my life, my brothers and friends have been dying, but I've just carried on because it was all I knew back then…_

_Then, here, I'm given a chance. People look at me, they see a human being. I've… I can't take this anymore. From day one, it's just been "kill, kill, kill"… I lost one brother twice, and Fixer on Valhalla… then Garrus died and now John. I just… It's too much. I know I was made to be a soldier, to just be a killing machine, but… the last words John said to me, he said I was my own man. I _am_ my own man. Believe me, I hold nothing but the greatest respect and affection for everyone of you. You are my family, and that I don't remain with you will probably always be my greatest shame, the "what if?" question, I guess… I'm not going to… Fek, I can't… Just, don't try to pursue me… I don't want… I…"_ Jane stared at the file as it was reduced to the sound of a man sobbing before he ended the recording.

Scorch… had left them?

"Well, this is certainly unexpected… I blame hormones. You mortals always seem to follow those annoying little things." Roku mused, his synthetic voice making the comment all the odder.

"…Boss… what is this?" She demanded, trying to keep the illogical feeling of betrayal from showing in her voice. She understood Scorch's reasons. If anyone had a right to deserting, it was him or Boss. From what her conversations with Fixer had revealed, they had been trained to fight and kill from the day they were born. So far, they hadn't had anything remotely resembling a normal life.

"He followed his own path, ma'am." The man said, his voice the closest to a mumble that any of them had ever heard; "Are you going to… have him arrested?"

Jane yanked her helmet off and sat back down on the crate, pulling an armored hand through her hair. She seemed to do that a lot these days.

"I'm…" She started, then sighed; "No… No, I'm not. Technically, neither of you are Alliance personnel, so you can't actually desert. Still, fucking bad timing for it." Feeling she was starting to let her emotions show, Jane slapped the helmet back on, then stood.

"You seem to have picked a good timing, Corporal. You can replace our heavy weapons user "Scorch" in this. Still, what's your full name?" If he was going to be around, the last thing Jane wanted was to address him as "Shepard".

"Eh…Dwaine?" While it was clear that he didn't fully understand the reason, Jane took it for what it was.

"Adrian Dwaine? Good. We're meeting with the crew of the SSV Kellion soon, then we'll undock and head for the Cygnus-system. Everyone geared up?" Jane asked, glancing at the men under her command. While Nicolai Tengberg and Teresa Aquila were both carrying their heavy weapons folded upon their backs, the rest of the crew were carrying their own firearms folded up as well. The only person to be actually carrying his weapon in his hands, was Boss. With the Alliance manufacturing the ammunition for his weapon, he was able to keep his DC-15 rifle, a weapon Jane more than once had caught herself looking at with hungry eyes; "Good, let's go."

While the hangar itself was relatively small, it was still large enough that walking from one end to the other took a few minutes, and it was a silent group of marines that stopped before the hull of a very different frigate than what they were used to, as well as the apparent crew of the ship in front of it.

The Kellion looked more like an elongated WASP-gunship with a pair of enormous thrusters mounted behind it. It was nothing like any frigate Jane had seen so far, which meant it was likely a product of commercial or semi-military industry, like a private security-corporation. It also seemed to sport no visible weapon-systems to speak of, which just reinforced her theory that it wasn't meant for actual warfare.

As if on cue, Jane was snapped from her considerations by the one man she now shared this mission with.

"Captain Shepard. Great to see you again." Isaac Clarke called, stepping forward to greet her. At first, Jane had disliked the man for his obvious lack of military discipline, but after Virmire, and after the reports of what he did on the Citadel, she had changed her mind about him. Irregular attitude, yes, but he was effective when shit hit the fan. He didn't even comment on the green geth platform walking with them.

Therefore, Jane grasped his hand, greeting him like an officer of equal standing. While he was only a sergeant, he was also an N7, which meant more than rank. It meant skills;

"Sergeant Clarke."

"Lieutenant now, actually." He said, tapping a finger on an insignia that hadn't been there the last time she'd seen the man. Looking at him now, Jane realized he_ did_ seem a little different. His armor seemed like it had been enhanced, with additional plates of ceramics and titanium covering what weak-spots the pitch-black phase-II left open. If nothing else, it made him stand out in a crowd. Thát, and his specialized helmet.

"...Really?"

"Yup. Command decided to give me a boost the right way after the Citadel. Should've seen the piles I left lying around for clean-up." He grinned; "Well okay. _Technically_, Lieutenant Langford helped me, you know, the Lieutenant from Virmire?"

"_Landford_? I thought it was 'Lee'?" Jane said as she stared walking past him, towards the actual crew of the small ship. Clarke laughed a bit at that;

"Honestly, when was the last time you met a woman named "Lee"?" He chuckled. Jane though, now focused on the man stepping towards her.

"Zach Hammond, Security Officer of the SSV Kellion, at your service, ma'am." He saluted, as did the two likewise armored men behind him, probably part of the ship's own security detail. Hammonds was either Afro-British, or Afro-American, Jane couldn't decide. Neither did he comment on Roku's presence. Next up was a woman with long, brown hair tied up in a ponytail;

"Kendra Daniels, Alliance Technical Department. I'll be handling most of the technical issues with the Ishimura's systems." The woman saluted as well, though it was obvious she lacked the training of a soldier. Civilian mindset, Jane instantly decided; "You… have a geth with you?"

"Roku's special. Good to meet you Hammond, Daniels. What's our scheduled time of leave?"

"We just need to go over the final checks, then we'll be good to go." Hammonds replied. As if on cue, an Alliance engineer emerged from the entrance to the frigate, giving them a thumbs-up. Jane would have smiled at the timing, had her mind not been flooded with concerns and strategies. Corporal Adrian was an unknown, as was the crew of the Kellion. Clarke was more or less a known factor, as she had seen him in action. Thomas was the only one to have seen the corporal in a conscious state prior to now, so she would likely have to consult him, should something come up.

Not that anything ought to, seeing as this was going to be a simple go-and-fix mission.

"Alright then. Everybody load into the Kellion. Hammond, take us out whenever you're ready." Jane ordered, receiving confirmations from her team. As she entered the ship, she realized the Kellion was just as small as she had pecked it, though it did have the room to store the entire team. The two side-rooms were instantly hijacked by the heavy gunners, who tossed themselves on the couches. The rest of the team simply dumped themselves as well, preparing for a long and boring trip.

Meanwhile, Jane joined Clarke, Daniels and Hammond in the front of the ship, watching as the two men she had seen before, Chen and Johnston, operated the vessel out of dock. Having the pilots also be soldiers was, she supposed, a smart way to overcome storage-issues. On the other hand, if they got killed in a firefight with eventual pirates, who would fly the ship?

"Arcturus Control, this is the SSV Kellion. Are we cleared for use of the Arcturus Relay?" Corporal Chen asked, being the First Pilot.

"_SSV Kellion, this is Arcturus Control. You are cleared for use of the Arcturus Relay. Fly safe._" The voice of the traffic-controller came back. Chen nodded and ended the transmission. Fingers dancing over haptic displays with a speed that would have made Joker feel bad, he set the Kellion on course with the Relay and punched the engines, propelling the vessel into space.

* * *

January 6th

Cygnus system, Cygnus Cluster.

SSV Kellion, Wing Room.

09:15

Thomas was woken up unlike he usually was. This time, it wasn't a kiss on the forehead, mouth or a fresh tumble in the sheets that saw to his awakening, though of those would have been preferable. Neither was he rustled from sleep by someone yelling they were under fire, or that the commanding officer demanded they stand at attention.

Instead, Thomas was thrown from his sleep when the Kellion pulled a maneuver to avoid a large hunk of rock drifting towards them. Apparently, the gravity wasn't set to more than 1G, so when the ship turned, it was like sitting in a bus that received a kick from a giant. In short, he hit the wall with a painful yelp of surprise, though his armor helped protect him from the worst.

"Gods damn it! What the _Fuck!_?" He growled as he picked himself up, noticing that Nicolai seemed to be reaching for him, or rather, seemed to have been trying to hold him where he was before he was kicked by a frigate-class mule.

"We're in the system the Ishimura was last heard from. Captain says the vessel seems to still be here according to scans, though, big surprise, we can't get into comms with it yet." Hillary deadpanned in the middle of checking the condition of her Lancer. Considering the Ishimura was supposed to be a civilian mining vessel, Thomas found the act silly, but refrained from speaking. He and Hillary had enough tensions to work out without him adding ridicule of her pre-mission activities to the list.

Instead, he picked himself up, dusted off his armor and looked around for his helmet. Somehow, the damned thing had made it to the stairs leading to the main compartment of the small frigate. As he moved for it, another tremble shook the vessel, sending him stumbling forward instead, face-first towards the stairs.

"Whop. Can't have you breaking your nose, can we?" A filtered voice called, as a pair of strong arms caught him in his fall. Not immediately recognizing the voice, Thomas looked up, and into the azure lights from the specialized helmet worn by their resident N7-engineer. Clarke let him go, as well as handing Thomas the helmet.

"Thanks." He muttered. It was difficult being grateful to Clarke, with how the man had pissed Thomas off to no end while on Virmire. Even Jenny had had a better grip on military procedure than the N7. Still, the blackened helmet, combined with the light streaming from his horizontal double-visors, made Clarke intimidating enough that Thomas simply decided that professionalism was better suited for the situation.

"Alright, syncing orbit…Now." Thomas could hear one of the Kellion's crew say. He plumbed down next to Kaidan, and opted to wait for them to dock or attach to the Ishimura. Honestly, this was an unknown to him, as his life up until now had consisted of simply landing, killing or saving, taking off, recovering, repeat. Acting as repair-crew was an unknown to him.

"All this trouble over that chunk of rock…" A woman said. Seeing how he knew every woman on the Normandy-crew by voice, Thomas knew it was the woman, Kendra, speaking.

"Well, it's sufficient "rock" to churn out a pair of modern Dreadnoughts. And our trouble is just repairing the damn ship, not flying said rock home ourselves." Jane commented, drawing a humored smile from a few of the team members.

"Deep-Space mining is a lucrative business, miss Daniels." This time it was the black guy, what was his name? Hammond, that was it, speaking; "Aegis Seven is a goldmine according to prospectors' reports: Cobalt, Silicon, Osmium…"

"In short, enough to churn out dreadnoughts." Jane added, her comment drawing a smile from Thomas as well, this time around. At least she knew how to stay a little interested on a repair-op. _Oh well… I'll get to see what machines they use…could be fun._

"_There_ she is. Over there, in front of the planet." Hammond said.

"Where?" Clarke's voice was easy enough to recognize now, with him being the only one to have his voice filtered through a helmet already. There was a sigh, clearly from Jane;

"Next to the big rocks…"

"Ah, now I see it…The Ishimura is… not the prettiest ship I've ever seen." Clarke almost immediately muttered, though it was audible on the entire ship.

"The _MSV_ Ishimura." Hammond shot him down, almost like he took offense; "Biggest planet-cracker in her class, with almost sixty years or service." Thomas whistled at that. It meant the ship had been doing whatever planet-cracking was, for longer than Humanity had known about the Council or the Citadel. _Impressive…_

"Huh, looks like they popped the cork, so to speak." Jane mused. Thomas had no idea what she meant by that, but opted to not give a damn, and instead remain in his seat, where the ship couldn't kick him around again. Once was enough.

"Why is it all dark, I don't see any running lights?" Kendra asked. Thomas raised a brow at that, idly feeling for his sidearm, his trusty old, modded Carnifex that he had taken from a Cerberus guard, then loaned to Tequila while on Virmire. The module for increased stopping-power was something he hadn't seen on any other weapons, and as such, he took a certain pride in his price.

"Corporal, take us in closer and hail them." Hammond said. Immediately, the ship started whirring and generally making what could be called 'ship-sounds'; "And stay clear of that debris-field. We're here to relieve their ship, not to fix our own."

"MSV Ishimura. This is the emergency maintenance team of the SSV Kellion, responding to communications blackout. Come in, Ishimura." If there was a response, Thomas couldn't hear it from where he sat.

"You're gonna need to boost the signal if power's low." Kendra, being the tech-specialist, said.

"Thought crossed me too." Jane mused.

"Yes, we know." Hammond deadpanned, sounding somewhat annoyed by the female interference; "Boost the signal…More"

"Never heard of a total comms-blackout on one of these things. You'd think with a dreadnought-sized crew, someone would pick up the phone." Kendra said, though it wasn't clear to Thomas just who she was talking to. As he was looking at the people on the opposite side of the room, namely Boss, Tequila and Hillary, he couldn't see what was going on in the central compartment.

Suddenly, static and distorted sounds could be heard on the ship's intercom. For some reason, the sound sent a chill down Thomas' spine.

"Sounds like a busted array like we hoped. At least there doesn't seem to be any other vessel around, so no pirates." Kendra said. Thomas though, wasn't so sure a busted array would give him chills. As Roku was in the wing-room on the other side of the ship, he couldn't well ask the aspect.

"Trouble with the encoder maybe?" Isaac offered, to which Kendra gave an agreeing 'mmm';

"You get us down there, Isaac and I can fix it while the rest of you make sure the ship hasn't suffered damage from the asteroids."

"You heard the lady. Take us in, see what needs fixing." Hammond said, to which the ship whirred in reply as it changed course, adjusting to the much larger ship. Thomas sighed, closing his eyes as his fingers went to the small hammer hanging between his helmet and chest piece, resting on the part of the armor where flexible Kevlar and nano-weave made up for the weak link.

"Gravity-tether's engaged, automatic docking procedures are go." One of the pilots said. If they were staying with these people for a longer duration of time, Thomas needed to figure out who was who. Not that he had much time for consideration, as in the next instance, the ship was rocked by a new explosion. Something had crashed into them, thát much, he knew immediately.

"FUCK!"

"What the hell!?" the pilot cursed, as the ship almost tilted in its own trajectory.

"Aw crap…" Tequila muttered from her seat.

"I knew I hated this ship the moment I saw it!" Nicolai kicked the center table for emphasis as he cursed the ship, its makers, and the makers' mothers and grandmothers. By the time the ship was groaning louder than the man's swearing, at least five generations of mothers had been cursed. Thát, and the constant claxons of the alarms made a migraine emerge in Thomas' skull, each high-pitched tone like a knife in his brain.

A new trembling, and a feeling like the ship folded up on itself. Then, the crash happened. If Thomas had ever tried imagining what it would feel like, crashing the SR-2 on the Collector base, he guessed this would be a pretty good place to start. Despite the meter-thick hull, armor and kinetic barriers designed to swap away asteroids, the Chief could feel it as the vessel scraped on the surface of something much, much bigger, meaning they had _hit_ the damned ship they were here to fix. _If we survive this, whomever is captain of the ship is going to kill us all!_

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the ship stopped with a violent jerk, throwing the entire team of soldiers towards the end of the room, most of them landing in a pile of cursing, struggling bodies. Now, the migraine was _definitely_ there, and hammered away at Thomas' brain like a Krogan with a hammer.

The first sound he could pick up, aside from the sound of the engines dying, was Kendra chewing out Hammond.

"What the HELL!? What the hell were you thinking, are you trying to get us killed?"

"I just saved our asses, Miss Daniels. If we'd have aborted at that speed and distance, we'd have smashed right into the side of the Ishimura."

"Then I say "yay we're alive" if that's fine with you." Isaac shot in, causing Thomas to wonder if the man was mental, to make jokes right after a near-crash in outer space.

"Agreed. Settle down and get to work." Jane said; "Corporal, report."

"I'm not getting any readings. We've lost comms and auto-pilot… It'll take some time to fix." There was audible cursing from more than a few members of the team, as well as the two women in the main room;

"Damn it!" Jane cursed, then seemed to settle down; "Alright… this is a big ship. Let's get some guys from the flight deck to move their asses and help us out. Least the fuckers can do, since it was their fucked-up systems making us crash in the first place… oh yeah, plus we're here to help _them_, not the other way around."

"I knew this was going to go shit…" Hillary muttered, untangling herself from where her foot was stuck with the front beneath Thomas' head. With a yank, it was free and his headache intensified. Wanting to strangle her, but keeping it in, he crawled from the mass of soldiers and stood up, if unsteady at first. Then he managed to pull Ashley from the mess as well, and leaned against the side of the room, helmet off and massaging his temples.

"I hate repair-missions… and I hate new ships." He muttered, as the sound of hissing servos made it clear that the entrance was opening. Grimacing at the pain, he placed the helmet back on, and gave himself a small shot of Medigel to alleviate the pounding headache.

"We've still got a job to do. Let's move asses, people." Jane though, seemed unaffected by the crash. _I swear, one day, one of these soldier-women _will_ be the death of me._

Outside, another rather uncomfortable discovery awaited.

"You didn't lose power to the port-booster… you _lost_ the port-booster!" Kendra yelled at Hammond, pointing at the wrangled remains of the oversized thrusters. The sight made Thomas groan, as he didn't really fancy riding home in a mining-ship. _This'll take FOREVER!_

Instead of listening to Kendra giving Hammond a piece of her mind, Thomas checked his gear before moving down the long walkway, a suspended path of metal that led from the Kellion to a very official-looking door, complete with self-advertisement above. The Ishimura was, by the large screen, quickly proclaimed the practically perfect ship for anything from harvesting rock, to defeating the gods themselves at tug-of-war. _Wonderful…_

The ship's two pilots, Chen and Johnston, had already taken up positions by the first door, rifles out and at the ready. Thomas supposed that, given they were the security-detail, it was understandable. Still, as he looked back at the rest of the team exiting the more or less fucked ship, he wondered if it was necessary, considering the fact they were bringing enough potential firepower to scare the piss from the Blood Pack if need be.

"So… we've got ourselves one big ship, an annoying VI proclaiming how this unresponsive heap of flying shit is a masterpiece, and we have a fuck-all frigate to fly home in…" Hillary growled as she kicked a small container on the ground. It broke, revealing a credit-chit; "And they leave their moniez lying around, thank you very much, in fragile-as-shit boxes." She grinned as she stuffed the chit in a small compartment of her armor.

Thomas wanted to stop her, but then thought better of it. Already, their own group had suffered immense material damage, so a bit of collecting resources wasn't really in the way.

"I know… sounds almost like a bad horror-flick." Tequila mused. Despite her playful words, she did however tap her sidearm. Thomas smiled at that, realizing he at least wasn't the only one being jumpy after the near-crash. The only calm person was Roku, if one would call him a "person", that was;

"Then according to your collective horror-genre, this ship is abandoned and someone opened a hole into another dimension… I wonder then, who'll be playing the role of insane doctor, wanting us all to pass through?" The aspect said as they walked towards where Thomas was trying to find a control for the annoying screen.

Just behind the first opening, there was a small room with what could pass for a vending-machine in the corner. Thomas paid it no mind though, as he found what he was looking for in the shape of a contact reading "Entrance Hall: Announcement Screen".

"And… shut up." He chuckled, killing the announcement before turning around. Ashley was shaking her head at him, he could see that even behind her helmet. Figures really, he thought. He was sort of the enthusiastic one right now, finding what entertainment there was. Had to, really, considering they were going to be stuck on the old piece of planet-cracking rust for a while. _Well, at least I don't have to crawl around in vents and fix doors and antennas. Have fun with thát, Clarke._

"Well, door's locked." Chen noted after palming the interface in vain.

"Clarke, this your area?" Jane asked. Isaac stepped up to the door, cracked his fingers and launched into a flurry of finger-dancing that Thomas had a hard time following. After a few moments, the light in the panel flickered and died, leaving Isaac to sigh, then gave the door a kick.

"Well, would be, if power to it hadn't just died… I don't suppose anyone's got a fusion-cutter?" He asked, looking at the assembled group. Thomas started looking for one, but was interrupted by his own thoughts. _Dumbass… just burn it open._

Before he could voice his suggestion though, Roku stepped up to the door.

"Step aside please, and witness in awe my works." The aspect said, causing the crew of the Kellion to stare at him weird. Considering they thought he was at most a friendly geth, arrogance and religious wording would likely be among the last they had expected.

It didn't help on their amazement when a flicker of green, almost gaseous fire erupted at the tip of the mechanical middle finger, its sheer intensity brightening the room.

"Geth can do thát?" Adrian asked in amazement. Tequila shrugged;

"Like we said, Roku's special." She offered, smirking behind her helmet. Thomas sighed once again, a habit he was really tired of having picked up, and readied himself for entering the ship and a crowd of angry technicians who would undoubtedly be pissed that a geth had burned their nice door.

Meanwhile, Roku had burned through the lock for the door, and stepped back, allowing the actual crew of the Kellion entrance instead. What the crew hadn't been expecting, was their welcome-committee;

"FREEZE! SHIP-SEC!"

For some reason, they were being pointed at with guns.

* * *

**Cue the drumrolls please.**

**Please do leave a review, I need to know how the mixing of verses is going here. Dead Space is... well, difficult, to write properly. I know that a lot of you won't be scared of Necromorphs when you see them in games, and think them dull... but I'm going to make the crew piss themselves if things go as I plan them. **

**3:D**

**(Insert evil laughter here, then insert a review)**


	8. New Arrivals

**Writing horror is a lot harder than I thought it would be. Especially since my style is descriptive, some might just zoom out and... shutting up. Ah well, I can only do my best and **

* * *

**New Arrivals**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus system

Arrival Lounge, Flight Deck

10:03

"FREEZE! SHIP-SEC!" A woman shouted, blinding the team with flashlights.

Thomas squinted, shielding his eyes while his helmet adjusted to the new brightness, allowing him to see just what the Hel was going on. From what he could hear around him, most of the team had similar reactions, annoyed or frustrated grunts coming from most of them, as well as the sound of armor shuffling against armor, meaning someone was moving forward.

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire, you fucking idiots!" Jane shouted, stepping forward. As his visor adjusted to the light, Thomas could start making out the people aiming actual guns at them.

There were five of them, clad in light, brown hardsuits and armed with Predator pistols. The first thing he noticed about the people themselves, was how utterly unlikely they looked as a unit. One was big enough to look Wrex in the eyes without the Krogan would have had to bow down. He was dark-skinned, with short, dark hair.

Another was, as if the universe wasn't fucked up enough already, a thin, almost bald woman whose remaining hair was tied up in long, blue tails, like some sort of Death Metal fan. Aside from those two, the people pointing firearms at him seemed somewhat more normal.

"This ship is under quarantine. Return to your ship immediately." The red-headed woman ordered, her gun leveled solely at Jane. There was a stress and frustration in the woman's eyes that spoke of a no-shit tolerance even lower than Jane's. Suddenly, her eyes widened at the sight of phase-II armor and military-grade weapons being raised in response; "Wait…You're Alliance Military?"

"Captain Jane Shepard, Alliance Navy. Now, why the fuck are you pointing guns at me and my team, and what's this shit about a Quarantine?" Jane didn't give an inch to the woman, which was understandable, seeing how the servos in her armor could probably let Jane rip the woman apart with her bare hands if need be.

"Fuck… guns down people." She seemed to become a little less prone to killing the new arrivals, and the team of hardsuit-clad guards or soldiers lowered their weapons. The leader stepped forward towards Jane, well-within reach of any sort of attack; "I'm Alissa Vincent, Chief of Security on the MSV Ishimura. This is my team, and we're tasked with ensuring nothing gets on or leaves this ship. We can't let you proceed."

"Wait, we're here to fix the communications-issue." Hammond said, pressing through; "What do you mean you can't let us proceed?"

"Like I said, we're under Quarantine. Something, some kind of infection spread on the colony of Aegis Seven while we were cracking the planet, and somehow it spread to the ship. We don't know what the hell it is, but we can't let it spread beyond the ship."

"Is it lethal?" Clarke asked, stepping forward. The sight of the N7-stripes made some of the officers whisper behind Vincent's back, something the blue-haired woman brought to an end with a voice that could only be described as more than pissed.

"We've lost contact with the colony itself, and seven crewmembers have already succumbed to some kind of hallucination-induced homo- and suicides. So yes, it's lethal, just not like you'd expect." Vincent explained, causing Thomas to relive one of his less pleasant memories. The mission to Feros, hallucinations… he'd been close to killing himself, believing Tali and John to be some sort of zombie-monsters…He shivered at the memory;

"Fuck…" Thomas muttered.

"Fuck's the right word. Comms are going haywire throughout the ship as well. Last time I had contact with the bridge, we were under a complete lockdown. I…" Vincent was cut off as her Omnitool chimed; "Finally. This is Vincent"

"_Vincent, get your team to hangar-bay D-7. A shuttle just crashed there from the colony. Arrest all those aboard it and quarantine them!"_ An angry, male voice shouted through the link. Vincent blinked but otherwise gave no indications of her thoughts.

"Understood." She said, ending the transmission before snapping to Jane; "Captain Shepard, make up your mind now. Either leave the ship _this instant_, or remain here in Quarantine."

"A few maniacs are _not_ stopping us from completing this mission. Clarke, head with Kendra and Hammond and fix whatever needs fixing. The rest of you, we're staying here till this shit's sorted. Understood?" Jane barked, looking at Thomas and the rest of the team. Considering they had already duked it out with a galaxy-ending Doom-squid, Thomas figured chasing loonies would at least make things interesting while waiting.

"Yes ma'am!" They replied in mostly-unison, the filtered voices of the helmets causing it to sound completely alike in the end. Jane nodded and turned to Vincent;

"We're ready to stay for however long this'll take. We're not leaving until the ship is fixed, and the way I see it, we can fix it by helping you. Lead the way." Jane said to the woman, tapping her sidearm.

"We get to play cops'n robbers? Sweet." Hillary chuckled, checking the safety on her rifle. Thomas shook his head at her less-than-serious attitude since coming to the mining-vessel, but kept silent as they started jogging after Vincent's team. All had their sidearms pulled, except for Hillary, who for some reason insisted to keep her Lancer ready instead.

"Pull it, Pennyloafer." Ashley said from in front of the private, causing the blond woman to cease her chuckles and at least act like she meant business. Thomas was content with letting Ashley handle whatever issues there could be with Hillary, and instead focused on where he was going.

"_Thomas?"_ A voice in his ear called. Tapping the device, Thomas looked around, noticing that they were a geth short of the usual.

"Roku? Where'd you go?"

"_I went with the technicians."_

"What? Why?"

"_I have my reasons. Take care."_ And with that, the aspect cut him off. _Hung up by a god… thát's not something most can brag about._

"Great…" He muttered, annoyed with the aspect. He was forced to simply stay silent though, as the team had reached the hangar they had been headed for. Jane gave the order to stop, while she and Kaidan went with Vincent's team. From what Thomas could see, they were headed for a civilian shuttle that seemed to have crashed in the middle of the large room, nosedived into a large stack of crates that were now spread about the room. Now, he simply watched from the sidelines as the security-team moved up on the shuttle.

"Form up." Vincent called, leaning against the hull of the shuttle, while her men and the two senior-officers of the Normandy-crew took up positions behind her, Kaidan ready with both his handcanon and an aura of purple gravimetric energy; "On my count."

As the team breached the shuttle, the rest of the group was forced to endure a few moments of silence. In that interlude, Thomas noticed something on the floor, leading away from the shuttle. It was a sight he had become fairly used to over the months. He had often been the cause of it, sometimes the source of it as well.

Blood.

"_Shepard here. Got a lot of blood, but no bodies."_ Jane called back through the comms. Blood. More blood. It always started with blood. _Great…_

"_Wait… we're coming back out. Someone walked out of here, there's bloody footprints on the floor."_ So, she had seen it too. Taking the returning shiver down his spine as the omen it usually was, Thomas holstered his Carnifex and pulled the Lancer from his back, checking its condition before noticing that a few of the others had done so as well.

"You know, this sort of reminds me of that movie, Doom, I think…" Hillary mused as she tapped a generous pool of red blood with the tip of her boot; "Lot of blood in that one too."

"So… pilot had the red while escaping?" Nicolai offered, gaining a laugh from Hillary and a smack over the back of his helmet from Tequila; "Right, right I get it." He muttered as the security-team stopped by the same place as them, looking at the blood.

"Well, it only leads one way. Vincent, you know who was on this thing?" Jane asked, glancing between the direction of the blood, and the chief of security.

"No clue, but it's a mining shuttle, plus the RIG-scraps we found inside indicate the pilot was likely one of the miners, trying to escape the planet. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine." Vincent huffed, pointing the flashlight on her Predator at the bloody trail; "Alright people, we have a direction. Let's catch this fucker _before_ he bleeds out on us."

As they jogged, following the trail, Thomas managed to get up next to one of the officers, the only one among them wearing a helmet, though it was more of a cap than anything else.

"Hey, what _did_ happen on that planet?" It sounded like thát one ominous thing that everyone was supposed to know about, and thus no one could talk about it.

"Some sort of mass-hysteria, I think. Happened right after they pulled the Marker from the ground. Just massive casualties, homicides, suicides, mental shit all around." The man huffed as they turned a new corner.

"Wait, what?" The word "Marker" was somehow familiar to Thomas. He knew he had heard it before, just couldn't remember when.

"What?"

"They pulled a "Marker" from the planet?" Thomas panted. While he had long-since gotten used to running in armor, running while wielding his rifle was bothersome. He just didn't care for it, but there were a lot of things he didn't care for, like Hillary's attitude towards his powers.

"Yeah, got the Uniotologists on the crew all riled up when news came in. the Chief seems to think the marker is connected to the string of murders and violence taking place on the planet. Fuck if I know, but I hope she's wrong." 'Uniotologists'? The words were causing his memory to whirr and hum as his mental clockwork went into overtime, trying to remember where he had heard about it before.

"Why'd you hope she's wrong?" He instead asked the man as they ran onwards, following the trail of blood towards an open doorway. The rest of the team had already stacked up around it, Vincent and Jane at the lead on each side.

"'Cause the Marker is onboard, and I'd really hate to start shooting crewmembers. Morgue's already filled with dead from the colony…" What was it with this "marker" and something Thomas was supposed to remember? _Come on, Brain. I know we haven't always been the best friends, but think for a moment, and I'll go back to killing you with beers when we're out drinking._

Apparently his brain had been listening. Like something emerging from the dark waters of the Black Lagoon, Thomas found his memories of the subject returning to him. He and Ash had been on a space station… the Citadel or Arcturus, he couldn't remember. They had been walking with Jennifer, and somehow started talking about some idiot on Titan where Ashley had been training. He had been a Uniotologists, and Ash had then told him about the Marker and…_ Oh right, those guys… Wait, wait so the ship is filled with religious fanatics?_

"Fucking great…" He muttered as he stacked up next to the others, rifle held at the ready. Their two heavy gunners still had their larger weapons strapped on their backs, instead wielding a shotgun and Tequila's old Pulse Rifle.

There were no words given, only hand-signals that ordered the teams into the room. As he entered the room, Thomas noted the words "Morgue" written above it. _Great, always wanted to see a morgue… not._

Thomas had never really been to a morgue before. When Anna had died at age four, back in the old world, he hadn't been to the morgue. He hadn't seen her little body when the paramedics had closed the bag. This, he was thankful for, as otherwise he likely wouldn't have been able to look his sister in the eye these days. _Fuck, got to get my head straight…_

The actual morgue was… not what he had expected, especially not on a ship where at least seven had died so far. Unless there was another morgue, he couldn't explain what he saw: It was empty. There were no bodies what so ever. There were no trolleys with dead colonials. No bags with dead crewmembers. There was just the room, and plenty of the opened containers supposed to house the dead.

"Where's all the bodies?"

"Maybe Jesus came by and they all underwent a miraculous reawakening?"

"Shut it, Dobbs." The blue-haired woman, Shen, snapped.

"Hey, just saying I wouldn't mind shooting the living dead, 's long as I get to shoot _something_."

"You're all insane…" Hillary concluded snidely, grinning as Dobbs chuckled, causing Shen to grow even more pissed.

"Okay… what am I missing?" Thomas muttered as he filed in, rifle kept at the ready. He didn't understand how there wasn't a single body, and from the looks of things, neither did the security-team; "Hey, wasn't there supposed to be at least a few dead guys in he-"

"Oh…" His foot had slipped on the floor, sending him flying to the ground, back first, where he landed with the hard clatter of P-steel on iron; "…Fuck."

"Jesus, Chief, can you fall just by standing?" Hillary teased as Tequila hauled him to his feet. The teasing tone was dropped the moment one of the soldiers shone a light on the floor. Everything seemed like it had been painted with a thick, red brush. Long tracks of blood covered just about every walkable surface, and pieces of humans were scattered all over the floor.

Thomas had slipped while stepping on what was left of a human hand.

"_Jesus Christo!_ The fuck is this?" The Hispanic corporal swore, kicking the hand as far away as she could, where it hit the wall with a wet thud.

"Spread out team, we have a possible murder on our hands here." Vincent ordered. Jane, while doing likewise, was visibly more affected by the discovery. Pieces of human flesh and limbs, shreds of intestines, a foot still attached to what was left of a leg. Kaidan was the only one who could know what sort of memories it would bring back for her.

Thomas swallowed the bile in his throat and brought a hand to his ear. This was so, so much more than just some maniac murdering a few crewmembers. Especially since there were no bodies. _Why are there no bodies?_

"Roku? Roku, it's me." There was nothing but static on the line. For once, Thomas would have been overjoyed to hear the annoyingly superior voice of his mentor on the link, but was instead answered with simple, eerie, annoying and horrifying static. He didn't even notice the woman, Alissa Vincent, walking next to him;

"Don't bother. Comms have been to shit all day." She said as if it was the most fundamental rule there was. Thomas himself wasn't scared of some maniac with an axe, or whatever the hell the owner of the hand had been killed with, but he was concerned for the rest of the team. None of them could set people on fire with a flipped middle finger, and if Tequila started tearing the hull open…

"Hey, Chief. I've found one." The guard Thomas had been talking to earlier called from a set of hospital-curtains; "You're gonna want to see this."

There was no single more foreboding sentence than thát, and Thomas deeply wished the man would just say 'Hey, I found a pregnant woman chopped in half' instead. At least then he'd know what they were about to find.

Even before he got there, the 'Holy fuck's and the less noisy 'Dear God's could be heard from those looking at whatever they had found. Thomas pushed his way through.

And threw up in his helmet.

The thing they had found, it was the single-most fucked up and disturbing piece of corpse Thomas had ever seen. A man was sprawled on his back, clad in the remains of a uniform, all drenched in blood. His body was torn open in several places, and his stomach was the worst, with the intestines hanging from a large, gaping hole, as if someone had simply _torn_ the man open with a large claw.

The thing that was even more fucked up though, was his arms. From the palms of both hands, actual _bone_ had pierced through, forming an organic blade that went longer than Thomas' underarm, ending in a tip dripping with blood. Thomas had only just managed to empty his throat of the first wave of bile when he saw what protruded from the man's stomach: a pair of extra, warped and crude arms, each sporting just three fingers. This was worse than anything he had seen from the Reapers' side so far.

And he threw up again, this time splashing liquids over the already soiled floor.

"Jesus, you never seen a dead guy before?" One of the guards, Hanson, asked.

"Well, I'm no doctor, but it almost looks like something's been… chewing on him." The guard with the helmet, Dobbs, said, poking the still steaming intestines with his baton.

"This shit's getting weirder by the second." The largest guard exclaimed, gun raised and ready for use. When Thomas managed to regain his standing with Ashley's help, he noticed that most of the team had done the same, with just himself, Kaidan and the blue-haired woman still wiping puke from their mouths. _By the gods! What the FUCK is this?!_

"Sounds a date with Shen."

"Fuck you, Rookie!" The woman in mention snarled, sweeping the room. Vincent opened her channel, obviously praying for the channel to be working. Meanwhile, Thomas kept staring at the corpse, eyes wide in near-animal fear. This was something he had never experience before. It wasn't just a corpse, it was a complete mutilation, like someone had tried making a work of fucked-up art on the poor bastard.

"Has it occurred to you jokers, that whatever or whomever did this…" Hanson started. In the same moment, Nicolai had his weapon, the M56A2 Exo-mounted tri-barreled minigun, swung free from his back and held in his hands.

"Bridge, come in. This is Vincent, we're in the morgue." While Vincent was trying to get through the static, Jane stood next to Thomas, looking at the corpse as well, while the guard, Dobbs, kept up his work, taking samples and examining the corpse.

"You okay, Fisher?" Jane asked as Dobbs picked some of the innards up with his baton. Thomas swallowed, the heavy stench of acid still burning his nostrils and the taste haunting his mouth;

"I… yeah. I mean… _Namira_, what the fuck is this shit even? Did a _human_ do this?" He asked in a throaty whisper, not wanting the others to know just how disturbed he was by the dead body. He'd killed more people and creatures than he cared to count so far, so why was this so deeply unsettling? He turned, trying to look through Jane's visor from the outside.

"I know what you mean. I've seen nothing like _this_ before, and… well fuck, I mean- GET DOWN!" Jane suddenly snapped to action, pulling her rifle in Thomas's general direction. The action startled him into movement, jumping out of her way no matter why she suddenly pulled the weapon.

The reason was revealed as Dobbs screamed. Thomas snapped around, eyes wide and stomach close to hurling once more. The corpse, the _dead_ man, was on its feet and assaulting Dobbs, biting into his hand as he tried warding it off.

"DOBBS!" Vincent yelled, grabbing the attacker, the _fucking dead guy_'s shoulders, trying to tear him from the struggling soldier. In a motion to fast for the woman to react to, the corpse swiped her away with the bladed arm, slamming Vincent into through the curtains. As soon as it hurled her away, the corpse renewed its attack on Dobbs, who was still on the ground, screaming, beating the feral corpse in the face with his baton.

Jane was on it the next second, her fist pulsating with biotic energy as she punched the attacker in the chest, liquefying his ribs and likely crushing his heart in the process. Thomas still stood as paralyzed when the attacker, for he was still unsure whether to call it "corpse" or "man", was right back on its feet, running towards Jane while roaring like something from a nightmare. Jane received it, hurling a warp straight at the face of the attacker, removing everything above the neck from existence. _Dear gods… please, what the hell is… this isn't real! Corpses are walking, attacking people… what is this?_

The corpse didn't stop running.

"FUCK!" Jane screamed, leaping to the side as an organic blade carved through the air, missing the captain by mere inches. Jane got back on her feet, only to face the creature again. Thomas kept staring in complete and utter fear, even as the rest of the team tried getting a lock without risking Jane's life. _What… what… is… what is this? What is… this is… what… _

A metal chair to the back slammed the creature away from Jane before it swiped at her again, causing it to stumble across the room, now clear of any unintentional targets. It snarled and gurgled, roaring like a diseased creature from the depths of Oblivion or Hel itself._ Gods… what the… what… the Hell IS THIS?!_

"OPEN FIRE! OPEN FIRE!" Thomas didn't register who had shouted it, but the words finally snapped him into action. He hardly paid any attention to his own hands as he brought the Lancer to his eye, aimed at the walking corpse and pulled the trigger. His fire joined that of the rest of the team, slugs and plasma tearing the creature to pieces.

And it didn't go down.

He pulled the trigger at where its heart should be, shooting until his gun screamed in protest, and yet the zombie-like creature didn't die. It just kept staggering backwards, roaring at the humans as it tried getting through their fire.

Finally, what brought it down was when blue plasma seared through its abdomen, separating it from both its legs. The creature still roared and snarled, clawing its way towards the team as if it wasn't dragging steaming, bleeding intestines behind it in a mockery of defying death.

Shen was by Dobb's side the very next second, kneeling next to him as she worked on stopping the bleeding from his wounds. The creature had bitted out a large chunk near his upper shoulder, and the wound was pouring blood onto the floor, causing the applied Medigel to simply be washed away when it failed to find any sort of purchase in the mangled flesh.

"Vincent to bridge! We were attacked, don't know by what exactly, requesting support in the morgue, I don't know-"

"Vincent! Dobbs is dying!" Shen yelled over the Chief's voice.

"Shen, shut- SHEN, GET DOWN!" Vincent screamed. Acting as if on instinct, Shen threw herself on Dobbs's dying form, hugging as close to the ground as she could. The rest of the team, Thomas included, opened fire as another of the creatures emerged from a doorway, this one wearing the tattered remains of a nurse. Locks of red hair still hung before the dead eyes of the nurse as the corpse ran forward, only to be met by a storm of slugs poured at it from the team of soldiers and guards.

Blue plasma was again what brought it down, Boss aiming to incapacitate the seemingly immortal creature by simply shooting its arms and legs off with his rifle. Configured into its close-encounters mode, it was effective enough at the current range to burn through the necrotic flesh of the charging monster.

The creature dropped dead, armless and riddled with holes in every part of the body. A silence, devoid of anything even close to relief, hung in the room. The entire team of hardened soldiers, some of them having stared down the hordes of Sovereign, stared in disbelief at the scene.

"What…the…" Tequila was the first to find her voice.

"…fuck" Nicolai finished as the corporal trailed off. His fingers clutched the gun in his hands, the Kevlar in his inner gauntlet straining under the pressure.

"What the FUCK was that?!" Ramirez, one of the guards, yelled, lowering his gun.

"I don't know! Fuck this shit, let's get the fuck out of here!"

"Okay people, man the fuck up. Whatever these things are, they're loose on the ship, so snap the fuck out of it, and check your guns." Vincent ordered. Thomas kept staring at the scenario in front of him, unable to process what had happened.

Dead people just came back and attacked the living… _What the fuck?_

"You heard the lady." Jane snapped, seeing as only the guards had snapped to attention at the order; "Check your gear and heat sinks. We're dealing with a whole new type of shit here."

"Yeah no shit. Dobbs is fucking dead! What the hell was thát thing?" Shen yelled, pointing at the creature in a nurse's uniform.

"Alenko?" Hillary asked in a low voice. The lieutenant looked at her, frustration and stress showing in his movements; "That bet? Forget about it, I really wish I'd lost."

Thomas, having no idea what was referred to, instead sought out Ashley as the group started moving, following Alissa Vincent, as her knowledge of the ship's layout would likely prove their salvation. If nothing else, it would spare them the wild panic of being lost.

"…Ash?" He asked through their private link with a small voice, more terrified of what the attack had done to her than what he had gone through. Fear was one thing, but fear for her… it ate him up. He knew he could likely survive, even if he was the last person left against whatever these things were, but he feared exactly that scenario, that thought, of losing her. It had always been there, but now they were fighting monsters that ignored bullets.

"I'm fine, I'm okay… just… You?" She said, her voice coming off as shaky but coherent. Something disturbed the visual link, preventing eye-contact. He didn't care, as long as she was as safe as he could make it, he would be without looking upon her face. He knew, he knew she was an outstanding soldier… _So why am I sweating like this? Face it, I'm fucking terrified! _

As Thomas tried formulating a response that wouldn't be a complete and utter lie to calm her worries for him, Vincent tried contacting the bridge again, and this time, actually got through;

"Vincent to bridge, over!" She called, and this time even received a video-feed, displaying captain Mathius' stern and frustrated expression to the rest of the team.

"I want a report, Vincent." The man ordered, seemingly utterly indifferent about the Alliance soldiers he was seeing behind Vincent.

"Something's going on sir, something _alien_ is attacking us."

"Batarians?" The old captain demanded. Jane stepped in then, forcing the man to realize the presence of the Alliance Military.

"She said something _alien_. We know what Batarians are, so I advice you get the ship placed on highest alert, because you're under attack from something_ none _of us have seen before." Jane ordered the man more than advised him, causing her equal in rank to furrow his brows in clear anger at being told what to do.

"Who the Hell are you?"

"Captain Jane Shepard, Alliance Navy. Now place this flying heap of shit on highest alert, the fucking _dead_ are walking!" Jane ended up shouting, the stress of the situation causing her to lose her nerve with the older captain. As the man was about to retort, someone ran up behind him, saying something to the man that none of the soldiers could hear. Then, the feed ended, and the team was left in silence.

And as the silence hung, it began to resound with the echoes of human screams. The death screams of humans, men and women, echoed down the halls of the ship. Thomas glanced around, seeing the uneasy and downright terrified faces and stances of his friends, colleagues and make-shift comrades. They were all frightened, as their leader had just worded the thoughts of everyone present. _The dead are walking…_

The feed then reappeared, snapping those close to it out of their frightened stupor;

"Vincent, take your team to A-deck on the double." Mathius barked, ending the feed before anyone could ask a question. Almost in the same second as the transmission ended, alarm-claxons started blaring their warnings across the entire ship.

"On our way." The leader said to the air previously taken up by the video-feed, then turned to the rest of the group, the new arrivals as well; "Make sure your weapons are good, I think we're about to walk into a world of shit."

"Talos protect us all..." Thomas muttered quietly, fingers idly touching the hammer hanging from his neck as they ran, following Chief Vincent through the halls of the Ishimura. Hearing the screams of panic, agony and death, Thomas wished he had never complained that the mission was a dull one.

The team piled up near the first larger door, Vincent taking the first look inside. She quickly withdrew her head from the opening;

"Shit… I count at least a dozen of them, grouped up in the corridor. There's no way we're getting through that many of those things with what we have." She hissed, then seemed to think of something, and snapped to Tequila and Nicolai, both standing with their heavy weapons ready; "But, if you can use those things to tear through them, we might be able to do this. Anything comes from behind, we'll keep them off your backs."

Her tone of voice made it rather clear that it wasn't a suggestion.

"Fuck me… fuck me, fuck me…" Nicolai groaned as he stepped out in the open, shoulder to shoulder with Tequila. Even before they had started spinning up the guns, the creatures saw them, and started a mad dash of undead violence towards the Alliance soldiers; "Fuck me… fuck me, fuck, fuck, FUUUCK!"

The weapons spun, and slugs the size of grains of sand poured out in a hailstorm of destruction towards the charging creatures. There was no slowing of the monsters' pace, as each acted as a shield for those behind it, sucking up the slugs enough to spare those behind until they fell to the onslaught. Each creature, however dead and destroyed its form, kept crawling towards the soldiers, even by the use of dragging themselves forward by their teeth, sharp and twisted pieces of jagged bones protruding from their skulls.

"JUST FUCKING DIE!" The man screamed, clutching his massive weapon as it poured slugs towards the creatures. They all realized, even as Nicolai's weapon started screaming in protest against the heat, that the creatures were still standing, and only as many as ten had been felled by enough firepower to take on an army. Nicolai, in his apparent haze and bloodlust combined with fear, kept pressing the trigger for his weapon, even as it refused to fire.

Tequila's then decided to follow suit, leaving the remaining monsters free to charge on, set on their path of mass slaughter that would start with the defending soldiers.

"Shit, Shiiiit, Open fire!" Jane shouted. Instead of adding her own rifle to the storm, she raised her hands, both embalmed in biotic energy, and formed a barrier between them and the monsters. The strain on her nerves started the moment the monsters, undeterred by the incoming fire, reached the barrier; "Where the fuck's an Adept when you need one?!"

"Right here!" Kaidan shouted, adding his own biotic power to hers. The barrier reinforced, it seemed the team was able to hold the undead, even with the monsters being nigh unkillable; "Captain, how do we fight an entire horde of these things?"

"Fisher!" the captain shouted, snapping Thomas from the singular purpose of puncturing the skulls of the dead with a terrified, but true aim. Most of his rounds hit the bodies only, but those that hit the head caused a fountain of grey matter and blood to explode out the other end, spraying fragments of rotten skulls behind the creatures; "Burn them!"

His finger stopped on the trigger, animal fear taking over as he looked at what Jane wanted him to do. She wanted him to get_ close_ to the monsters. She wanted him to go back to his hallucinations, to John and Tali biting and tearing at him, to Liara vomiting acid towards him, to his friends turning undead monsters with the sole purpose of slaughtering him.

"What!?"

"BURN THEM! THAT'S AN ORDER!" Jane now screamed, her voice strained to the point of hoarse breaking as new undead kept pouring at the barrier. They had long-since killed the initial dozen, and now faced numbers unseen by any of them.

Thomas stared at the mass of writing, roaring and gurgling bodies. His fingers twitched with fear as he looked at the undead. He looked death in the eye and blinked. He looked death in the eye, and _cowered_.

He then received a hard slap across the helmet. Blinking and groaning from pain, he saw Hillary, firing her rifle with just one hand while threatening to hit him again with the other. He looked around, and he saw his friends, colleagues, loved ones, his family. They were fighting for their lives. The barrier was starting to wobble, blades poking through from the other side.

The barrier was going to fall.

His family was going to die.

Because of him.

"Thomas! Snap the fuck out of it!" Hillary shouted, firing a burst into the skull of a creature, beheading it with a spread of pellets from her underslung shotgun. The world seemed to slow down around him.

Gunfire became slow flashes.

Screams and shouts were muffled.

Jane kept shouting at him, her stance growing more and more desperate and strained.

The she fell backwards.

The barrier failed.

The monsters hesitated for the blink of an eye.

Then they started pouring through, their uneasy gait no hindrance to their speed.

Thomas pressed his eyes shut, leaving himself in the darkness, tears welling from his eyes as he heard the panicked screams of his comrades, his family.

"THOMAS!" A voice screamed in fear. _Ashley! Gods, what- FUCK NO! YOU WILL NOT HAVE HER!_

His eyes snapped open, his vision emerald and sharp, as was it broad daylight.

"**YOU WILL NOT HAVE THEM!" **He didn't even realize that his voice came out distorted, like it had back on Pragia. Back when he had been consumed with hatred and a desire to kill, maim and torture had taken him over.

Now, it was the desire to protect those he loved. The desire to utterly _destroy_ whatever tried to take his loved ones from him. In the snap of a finger, he saw all that was. He saw his failings, he saw those who would die, knowing he could have saved them, had he only acted sooner.

Rage. Power. Anger. Wrath.

Even as a monster ripped through the jaw and face of Security Officer Hanson, Thomas' burning form ripped it apart in return, boiling away the dead organic tissue that had been the seemingly immortal beast. Turing on the spot, he smashed the bionic fist through the skull of the next beast, before tearing its arm straight from the necrotic shoulder, stabbing down with the organic blade through its head.

He turned again, seeing his team, his friends and family, fighting for their lives. He prioritized, selecting those who needed help the most above those he personally wanted to aid more than any others.

He descended, body coated in a film of fire, upon the undead creature trying to rip Hillary's face from her neck.

Hands aflame with a wrath and anger incomprehensible to a normal human, he burned the creature from skull to waist, kicking away the incapacitated form as he proceeded on his rampage, boiling a creature apart at the waist that had been in the process of stabbing the largest of the guards in the chest, even as others overwhelmed the man.

Thomas purged them, flaming hands clawing at their deceased forms with bestial rage, breaking those he didn't outright _burn_ from existence. One was about to carve through the jaw of the man, and was pulped into the ground for its trouble, reduced to a pit of singed tissue. The officer, seemingly startled and somewhat terrified at his savior, would manage the last creatures attacking him alone.

* * *

**So, Thomas finally snapped... can't say I blame the guy, when the things you want to kill _already are dead_. Must seem like a cruel joke to him, what with his previous disdain for death, now the dead are attacking.**

**And, yes. I did it here. I did something that a lot of people have thought about doing, and some have even done it: I called Shen's hair fucked-up.**

**Ah well, what can you do? I enjoy Dead Space a lot, even if I'm currently stuck in the hospital with the Hunter, having "geniously" traded all my best ammop for the level 3 RIG... I think Isaac hates me for that one, even if he's actually the one to blame. Bugger could just stop looking so badass in his new armor.**

**Oh well, R&amp;R, even if I have no idea what the second R is for... rate? No clue. Anyone knows?**

**Anyway, send me your thoughts, ideas or even religious confessions or wishes for Christmas. They all count on the bar, and I love your thoughts on my work, even if said work sometimes is retarted. :)**


	9. My iron skin

**Oh Hai there :)**

**Well, here's another chapter in the story, in case that wasn't obvious. Also, I changed this from horror to sci-fi, as I tend to focus a lot more on non-horror parts than I focus on the horror-parts, so... yeah well, just read :)**

**In this part, we focus maninly on Tequila, as she deserves a bit more attention. Also, we'll once again see the reason for the "Supernatural" label on this story. Gods, do I love writing Supernatural stuff in this story. It gives a sort of freedom impossible to come by for the regular version of novelizations of Mass Effect. Not that those are bad, mind you, not at all.**

**This chapter was written to the 1 Hour verson of "Glorious Morning" by Waterflame. Any of you guys ever played "Age of War"? Well, that's the music for it. Found that it went well with a badass Tequila... said too much now, just enjoy another chapter, yes? :)**

* * *

**My iron skin**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Inner corridors, Flight Deck

11:52

"FUCK. YOU! FUCK. YOU!" Tequila screamed, having dropped her weapons in favor of bashing one of the creatures to a pulp by hammering it with a torn-off piece of the wall. While the thing weighed more than twice her weight, the flow of energy running through her system caused her to barely feel the weight, as she used it to cave in the thing's skull and block its bladed arm from cutting her in half.

A bump to her back, caused by one of the creatures' arms having been cut clean from its shoulder and dropped through the air, caused her eyes to briefly glance around as the creature, now a broken mess of bones and rotten flesh, slumped on the ground with a pathetic growl, like a dying hyena.

The entire room was a mess, a chaos. People, team members and security-officers were fighting for their lives, shooting and pulsating with biotic energy as they fought desperately to stave off the horde of mutated dead. If she hadn't been in the process of planting her heavy, metallic boot in the remains of the skull belonging to one of the creatures, Tequila would have found it funny how the "Day of the Dead" back home, would now be forever changed for her.

She saw Thomas falter as Jane ordered him to go into his "mode", his posture slackened to that of a paralyzed man. She'd seen it before, in the army, how people would face things and events they couldn't handle or comprehend, and respond by simply trying to shut it all out.

Before she could try shouting at him or otherwise gain his attention by kicking his sorry excuse for a soldier-ass, a new creature, she might as well just call it a zombie, leapt at her, fanged mouth uttering a guttural roar of complete and utter mindlessness. The discovery that bullets did remarkably little, hadn't deterred her for long, and the creature was met by the flat end of her personal piece of wall, the metal crumbled up into a makeshift bat. With a wet snap, its head went flying into the wall, causing its body to stumble but otherwise continue on its course towards her.

"AND FUCK YOU TOO!"

"Thomas!" As she swung the metal at the head of the zombie, Tequila picked up Williams shouting over the comms. She refused to pay any attention to it though, as the fact that the fucker in front of her had _caught_ her bat, meant she was going to be screwed unless something came up. She kicked it in the chest instead, the servos in her armor enabling her to cave in the visible ribs in its body, likely crushing whatever organs hadn't already rotted away, since apparently rotting went a whole lot faster when people became zombies.

That didn't mean the zombie did much more than stumble at the attack, as if she had simply flipped it off. Considering her options, she might as well have. With a screeching sound, her bat was torn in half by the zombie, leaving her more or less defenseless. Pulling her sidearm, a Carnifex she narrowly avoid one gracing hit from its blades, before another slammed into her shoulder, cutting a deep gash into the armor before simply stopping, leaving the blade stuck in her pauldron. The thing simply raised the other arm, prepared to skewer her with a single cut.

Snapping to a response, her handgun changed hands, allowing her to block the fucker's blade by grabbing the arm with her own right hand. The thing was _strong_. Even the servos in her armor strained against the sheer necrotic muscle it utilized, motors whirring on her back as the weave in her arms assisted her.

Then, _bang_, and the rotted limb flew from the shoulder, courtesy of a close-range impact from a Carnifex-fired slug. Tequila prepared to kick the thing away, as it simply, and abruptly, went silent and went down. Dead. It took a moment for it to kick in for her, as she was still standing with the remaining of its arm in her grip. Then…

"YEAH! FUCK YOU TOO… TWICE!"

"**YOU WILL NOT HAVE THEM!"** A new voice suddenly boomed over the chaos and noise, causing even the zombies to halt, if only for the blink of an eye. Then, all was back to the status quo, with humans fighting for their lives as former crewmembers-turned-zombies did their very best to swarm them.

Tequila saw one of the guards, the blonde man, trying to shoot a zombie in the head with his Predator. The creature responded to missing its head by slicing half his face off, leaving the dying guard to stumble and fall to the ground.

A split-second later, a green claw of fire ripped through the zombie. Even as the two parts fell to the ground, the upper part tried clawing its way towards the rest of the team, oblivious to the fact that Tequila's heavy boot came down upon its head, covering the metal floor with mushy liquids.

The sound of fire burning tissue, and dying gurgles, drew her attention to where the largest guard was fighting off two zombies at once, punching one, then tossed it at another. At his feet, a zombie that had been split from head to crotch, was still twitching as it had been pulped by something of _massive _strength.

Then, she saw him, or it. What Tequila saw, was Thomas' form as he, hands aflame, ripped downwards through a zombie that had assaulted Ashley. The thing burned to a crisp around his fists, roaring more in rage and bestial hunger than in pain or even annoyance. She saw as Ashley froze momentarily at the sight of her lover filled with power and rage, then the woman went back to shooting the next zombie in the knees, incapacitating it before overheating her rifle in its body's vital areas.

Further observations were interrupted as Tequila herself was onset anew. The gurgling monster was different from the rest, its rippled skin black, its eyes shining with a diseased light. As opposed to the other monsters who had simply thrown themselves at her, this one moved between Tequila and the rest of the group, undead eyes focused on her with the mindset of a predator, not a mindless beast.

Rearming herself, Tequila tore up the floor directly beneath the both of them, sending the zombie to the floor as she wrenched the metal in her hands, forming a serrated edge sharp enough to rend flesh like a crude knife. The metallic weapon was as big as her normal rifle, but weight substantially more as she swung it towards the black monster.

Moving faster than the others as well, it dodged the blade, then swung at her, the blackened bone aiming for the same cut made previously by another of its kin. Tequila jumped back, slamming her back against the wall to avoid the blade. _Fuck, this thing's smart?_

Seeing the zombie come at her again, she swung the blade at its feet. The blade carved into its legs, but lodged itself in the back of its knee, stuck for all intents and purposes. As she tore to pull it free, the beast roared and raised both bladed arms to chop her up like a piece of meat.

Her weapon still lodged in the thing's leg, Tequila saw the blades coming towards her, and realized she wasn't going to be able to free her own blade before the thing would rend her through. Sickly, mutated arms from its stomach grabbed for her, clawing at her armored arms. !_JODER! _

Forced to watch the blades coming towards her in what seemed like slow-motion, Tequila bit her lip and felt panic rise in her body. Then, she snapped and grabbed the wall behind her, armored fingers digging through the inch-thick sheet of metal plating the wall. _Not gonna make it! JODER!_

Even as her clenched fist started pulling the metal from the wall, the blades reached her chest.

* * *

Boss Delta Thirty-eight snapped to the monster trying to jump him. It was a disgusting abomination of life, and it was even more a transgression because it was an innocent human, murdered and turned into something not even the Dark Lords of the Sith could possibly forgive in creation.

With reflexes and dexterity born of years and years of training and breeding, he grabbed the monster by the throat, jabbed his wrist-blade into its skull before tearing the head off, then sliced through the arms of the demagolka, the monster. It fell dead to the ground, twitching.

Boss had lost a lot in the months prior to this. First, he had lost Sev Oh-Seven once, on Kashyyk. Then, they had all somehow ended up in the galaxy known as the Milky Way, which, if the star charts he had read were accurate, was in fact the neighboring galaxy to his own. The Force works in mysterious ways, he had accepted that long ago. Not even a month after their collective resurrection and reunion with Sev, he had lost the grizzled soldier again. Losing a brother twice was… hard, he thought. Then, he had lost Fixer, the most reliable and stable soldier he had ever met, to something as demeaning, crude and simple as a vehicle-crash. And now, Scorch had borderline deserted, leaving him the sole Vode in a crew of comrades.

Losing his commanding officer had been one of the last straws the Lieutenant could take, and as such, when he cut apart the monster, it was with a roar of long-repressed rage;

"DIE! _DEMAGOLKA!_"

He didn't allow himself to pause in his rage though, as he with the professional and cold efficiency he had been trained to live, breathe and eat, yanked his blaster back out and began taking shots at the enemies where he could avoid hitting allies. One that was about to impale the redheaded security-officer from behind received a singed hole in its head, enough to make the skull explode as the brain cooked. The woman whipped around in time to bash the creature away and, and shoot its legs off.

Boss wasn't certain how some members of their group had figured it out, but he had had the suspicion that the limbs were their weaknesses, ever since the second monster was dropped with simply a few bolts searing off its arms. It hadn't been enough to act upon, but food for thought.

The sound of metal tearing made him snap around, finding one of their heavy gunners, Corporal Aquila, under attack from a black demagolka. She was in the process of some action Boss found himself uncertain of, but he saw what the monster was doing. It was about to kill her, and whatever she planned, she would be too late.

Blaster whipped up, he pulled the trigger, sending out a volley of precise and lethal plasma-bolts, each the temperature of a small thermonuclear reaction, suspended in a magnetic state until release. He watched the bolts fly...

* * *

Even as her clenched fist started pulling the metal from the wall, the blades reached her chest. Her eyes widened in fear, and in the realization that she would die now, this day and moment, because she hadn't been fast enough. _Dios mio, Joder! Fuck! I'm not ready!_

There was no sound but that of the constant fighting and the sound of fire burning through tissue whenever Thomas laid waste to another zombie. There was no sound, but the sudden sound of plasma boiling through hardened skin and muscle and bone, and the snapping, wet sound as both the black zombie's arms were seared from its body at the elbows, leaving them to hit her armored chest, but clatter against it instead of piecing and shredding. _Wha…_

It was all the time she needed to finish the act. Wrex had, in their second week of training, taught her something that he had stressed was more than just dangerous if done wrong. If done wrong, one wouldn't necessarily _die_ from it, but instead risk a fate worse than death.

Fingers still dug into the metal, she dropped her weapons on the ground with her free hand, and turned with the momentum, coming face-to-face with the wall as the metal in her right hand started wrapping itself around her back, hugger her body in a thick layer of steel and bolts pulled like a sheet. Hitting the rest of the wall, she closed her eyes against the impact, but remained in control. Wrex had stressed more times than she could count, how control was the key to not end up either crushed to mashed Pyjak, or trapped in her self-imposed prison forever._ Fuck, I hate this stunt._

The worst part, even when she could successfully form the armor back on Arcturus, had been the process of carefully, _very_ carefully, peeling away the opening for her mouth and eyes. It had to be done_ after_ the protection was formed, which meant she had to possess enough control as to not either crush her own head, or rip out her eyes in the process.

The upside was, she could feel one of the zombies hacking on her armor, but not getting through. _Got you._

With her right hand, now wrapped in five centimeters of reinforced iron, she formed what could best be described as the hand of a physically handicapped Turian, two thick claw-like fingers carefully grabbing a hold of her "helmet's" front, peeling the iron skin away like the skin of a grape.

She screamed in pain as she pulled out hair and opened a gash on her forehead, but now at least her vision was free. Next up, and easier, was the mouth.

Now, "dressed for the occasion", as Van Zandt would have said it, she turned around to face the chaos.

So far, three had died. Hanson, the blonde guard, lay on the ground missing most of his head, while the Mexican, Ramirez, was slumped against the wall, missing most of his lower body. Shen, the brash, blue-haired woman, was being ripped from the blade of a larger, fatter zombie that most of all resembled a pregnant version of the regular fuckers. The woman's dying screams rose above the chaos, the high pitch of her shrill screams causing Tequila to shudder in her encasing protection.

But she wasn't scared. She wasn't going to be scared. She _refused_ to be scared as the walking dead ripped her allies apart in front of her. Thomas had already tackled the fat zombie, tearing through its body while standing in a shower of fluids washing from its torn stomach, frying to ashes what seemed like little hands clinging to him, trying to get through a type of protection they hadn't been evolved or revived for.

Seeing the offending zombie that had tried clawing through her new armor, Tequila took the time to crack her knuckles through the armor, an exercise Wrex had stated would either prove she had control… or break her hands. So far, her hands were just fine, and as the monster came at her again, roaring and snarling, she caught its bladed arm with her own, ironclad hand, and snapped it like a rotten twig. The second blade came down on her shoulder, impacting with both power and force enough to likely shred her regular armor, but only dented her current shell of iron.

"Not so fucking tough now, huh?" She yelled, letting the boiled-up frustrations out as she punched the zombie in the head, the energy in her body acting like servos to the armor. The skull didn't cave in as she expected, instead it flew straight from the shoulders with a wet, tearing sound, leaving its body to flail around its remaining arm, trying to slash the armored woman.

Instead of aiming downwards, the zombie sent its blade swooping horizontally, while the sickly mutated hands protruding from its stomach felt for her, bereft of eyes. The blade hit her in the side, causing the inside of her armor to resound earsplittingly with the denting of metal as the blade got stuck.

Snapping down her elbow, Tequila broke its wrist before grabbing and simply tearing it off. Ignoring the blade in her side for now, she grabbed the _conõ's_ upper arm and tore it straight from the shoulder before aiming an iron-clad fist at and through its chest cavity, effectively punching a hole straight through it. As it staggered backwards from the blow, Tequila aimed a high stomp to its knee.

The force of impact was enough to not only break, but completely snap the appendix from the rest of its body, leaving the creature to fall dead to the ground, only a single leg remaining. Caught up by her own rage, Tequila stomped what remained of its chest in, her heavy iron-clad boots meeting the floor beneath with little resistance;

"_Hijo de puta!_" She hissed in her native tongue as she stomped again, for good measure, and then turned back to the fight. The first thing she saw, was the redheaded chief of security, Alissa Vincent, on the ground, struggling to keep one of the black zombies at bay. Both the woman's hands were employed in her fight for survival, and the creature was proving to be the stronger, as its snapping and snarling jaws of deformed teeth inched closer and closer to her face. _Well fuck, not today._

Shrugging off what attacks were levelled against her own person, her armor protecting her better than even the heavy-duty Bulwarks were likely to be capable of, Tequila made her way through the chaos of the fight, aiming for the closest person to her that needed help.

With the same brutality and speed she had seen Wrex employ when he demonstrated the armor for her, she punched an open fist into the neck of the zombie and tore, ripping head and upper spine from the creature. It changed target from Vincent to her instead, and came at her headless, the throat still offering some guttural snarls. She took the first and second hit, allowing the undead crewmember to get its blades stuck in her thickly armored shoulders.

Grinning darkly beneath her armor, Tequila then yanked out the snapped-off blade that had been stuck in her side since the last zombie had been at her, and chopped down on the zombie's right arm. She smirked, cutting the arm off just a little above the mutated elbow, causing it to snap like a rotten stick, and black fluids to fly from the wound.

Tequila felt herself being carried away on the rush of adrenaline flowing through her body, and proceeded to cut off the leg, before she broke the fucker's other arm. Bereft of its grip, the creature fell to the floor, trying to kick towards her on its last remaining limb. Before Tequila could curbstomp it into the ground, Vincent was on her feet and had shot the last leg off. The undead body then twitched and lay still.

Tequila snapped to look at Vincent, the woman seemingly intact. Still, the Chief stared at Tequila like she had seen a ghost.

"**I WILL PURGE YOU!"**

The shout came with so much anger, rage and power, that Tequila could feel herself shivering from it. It had been Thomas, obviously. The Service Chief was surrounded by more undead crewmembers than Tequila had even seen enter the room, and he was repeatedly tearing them apart, limbs and whole bodies at a time.

Whenever the zombies slashed at him, and they all did, with bestial and mindless rage and hunger to boot. Tequila once believed the most mindless killers in existence would be humans. Then, she had reified that to be the Xenomorphs instead, and then the Husks of humans that Saren had used. The Xeno's, after all, had proven to be intelligent animals, not some abomination of life.

But now, as she saw the zombies hack and slash in vain at Thomas' immolated form, she knew that mindlessness was given a whole new meaning here. Still, she knew even he wasn't invulnerable. Just very hard to kill.

"You alright?" She snapped to Vincent, scanning the woman to see anything missing, like a hand or eye.

"Most of my team's dead, we need to pull back and regroup." The chief of security exclaimed over the deafening snarling and roaring coming from the monsters in the room. True, Tequila realized. Only the large guard remained alive, and he was sporting several severe-looking gashes and tears in his armor.

"Can you get the wounded to safety? I'll try helping Fisher." And without waiting for Vincent to reply, Tequila started off towards the thickest of it, trusting her armor to keep her more or less safe from harm. The openings at her eyes and mouth were still big enough though that a well-aimed attack could go through her helmet, visor and all, and into her head._ Fuck, this reminds me of Therum…_

Only this time, as she was now clad in an almost unbreakable shell of thick iron, Tequila wasn't worried about being speared or slashed. The Xenomorphs had had acid, so that would have done her armor in, but these things. These things were ideal for her armor.

A zombie tried its luck at her as she was stomping her way towards Thomas, each step leaving an impression in the floor. She caught it in the shoulders, breaking off both arms before hacking both the organic blades straight down its body. The wrists of the blades broke as she passed the first ribs, but the effect remained, as the creature went down, the coup de grace being delivered by a stomp to the head.

As she reached where Thomas was fighting, a panicked yell came from close by. Snapping around, she found Nicolai to be backed into a corner, blasting away with his shotgun. A pair of incapacitated undead already showed the trail he had backtracked on, while another three were only held back by the fact that the pellets from his shotgun seemingly had managed to tear off their arms. Instead, their snapping jaws were towards him, less than a meter between their deformed fangs and his visor. Tequila knew from earlier, from Dobbs, that the things had no trouble biting through ceramics, and probably not the advanced P-steel either.

Seeing the danger he was in, an unexpected surge of anger, of rage, rose in her;

"Get the fuck off him!"

Gritting her teeth, she stomped her way to the first of the zombies, before delivering a devastating punch that tore straight through its mutated, necrotic body. All three turned on her as a result, snarling and snapping in rage and hunger.

"Teresa! What are you doing?!" She heard Nicolai shout. In the dim lighting of the room, it was possible he couldn't see her new armor, but had only recognized her voice. Hence, he likely thought she was still in the phase-II armor, and thus not exactly protected.

"Kicking ass! What the fuck does it look like?!"

The fact that he used her name, not her call sign, caused her to pause for just a moment as unimportant thoughts and considerations were suppressed. Instead, she grabbed the first monster by the upper jaw and ripped it off, leaving the brain to slide from the remains of the skull like a sickly, gooey mass of deteriorated gel.

"I'm Iron Maiden, get it?" She grinned.

She heard Nicolai yell in panic as the first blade connected with her armored shoulder, leaving a dent to join the others already decorating her shoulder. It didn't matter much, as each shift of her body bent the metal anew, mending minor tears and dents subconsciously. Both to show off, and to make him calm down and shut up, she ripped the arm from the shoulder, used it to hack the other arm off before she looped the head from its place.

A kick sent it to the floor, where it was joined by another as Tequila hammered down with her free fist, pulping the zombie to a broken mass of fangs, bone fragments and rotten tissue. Even if the thing survived the hit, it wasn't going to move again.

Looking around for the last zombie, she found it, and the other way around, when it jumped on her back, trying to rip open her armor with its powerful arms. Tequila's murderous grin faded when she realized a flaw in her protection: She couldn't reach her back.

"Get the fuck off me, _Pendejo_!" She yelled and trashed around, each stomp producing a squashing sound as the floor was littered with organic parts. What violent joy she had found in the fight before, now vanished altogether when it became a deadly fight for survival.

"Get off me! Get off me! Get off me!"

If she couldn't reach behind her, the zombie would eventually be able to tear open her armor, and rip her apart from behind. This realization turned her frustration into outright panic. _Fuck! Shit! Fuck this is bad! ShitShitShit!_

A tearing sound, as well as a force that nearly knocked her on her face, alerted her to the fact that her armor had been ripped open. The creature had managed to get though her shell, and now her back was exposed to it, protected only by the armor of her Phase-II. Even if she could mend it, and by Mary did she try her hardest, there was no way she could do it in time. The fact that her armor had been ripped open meant another thing as well.

It was a new attacker on her back, which meant it had arms. Which meant it had blades._ Which means, I'm FUCKED! Fuck this shit, I'm not ending up like Jeanette! _

Glancing around in panic, Tequila found the nearest wall and threw herself back-first into it, hoping that her weight would be enough to turn the zombie on her back to a stain. The result wasn't exactly as satisfying as she had been going for.

Instead of crushing the undead monster on her back, she crushed its lower half, spreading its abdomen and everything below across her back as a disgusting smear.

It was still roaring and flailing its blades around, though luckily it seemed the impact had briefly stunned it, if one even _could_ stun a zombie. Reaching above her head, she tried luring it into slashing at her hands, thus allowing her to grab it and throw it off. If there was such a thing though, this was an intelligent zombie, as it chose to ignore her hands, and instead hack down at her back, leaving a large, incomprehensibly painful gash through her armor, skin and the outer muscle-tissue of her back.

Paralyzed with pain, she simply fell forward, her armor no longer responding to her thoughts. Hitting the ground hurt, and more than she had thought, but the pain in her back was still simply too overwhelming for her to even scream. Instead, she was left trying to breathe through her body entering shock. She could only listen halfheartedly as the monster stuck on her back raised its blades, growling and roaring as it eyed its prey, then swung both organic knives down simultaneously.

A hard clash of P-steel armor against bone and dead tissue came from just above her, followed by an enraged shout as she realized what had happened. Nicolai had tackled the zombie from her back. Even through the hazy dulling of her senses that the pain washing over her caused, she could make out sounds from the fight. She couldn't see what was going on, only hear blasts from a shotgun, roars from the creature and the sound of something heavy falling to the ground._ Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me, fuck it hurts! Oh God, don't be dead Ten- Nicolai! I'll be dead too if you died for me! So don't fucking die, pendejo!_

The world started blurring out as something approached her, running with an unsteady gait. She could feel how each step was out of any kind of rhythm, driven by simple purpose, maybe desperation. At least the sound of boots on the ground meant it was a human.

Someone was shouting her name, and something cold touched her back, causing the pain to spike and her consciousness to slip.

* * *

When she woke up, there was the feeling of being stared at. She could sense it, even while she couldn't see, but... When she had blacked out, she had fallen flat on her face, her armor tipping over with the disappearance of her strength. Now though, she could feel something burning in her back, but at the same time, something soothing. She could also sense she was lying on her back, out of her shell. Why was she out of her shell?

"Shut it, Tengberg, she's coming to."

"This is all because I didn't-"

"I said shut it, or I'll shut you."

"If I'd just-" There was the sound of something hitting flesh and skin, and a male voice cried out in pain and shock, most likely from having been struck. As the world came back to her, Tequila tried remembering where she was, and more importantly, why she was there.

"I said shut up. There are more of them on the ship, and the last thing I want is a new zombie-rush."

Right, right… there had been the ship, the zombies… the one on her back, then the pain, falling on her face… Had they won, or were all dead and met in Heaven?

"Didn't have to fucking punch me, alright?"

"I _slapped_ you. Jesus, pull your shit together."

"Hillary, don't hit Tengberg. Tengberg, stop shouting." This time, she recognized the voice as the first woman, the first actual human she had met in this crazy fucking excuse for a functional universe. Her eyes struggling to open, Tequila managed to blink. At first, just once, then twice and then at last her eyes remained open.

"…Ow…why's my back on fire?"

"Oh Jesus Christ on the toilet! You nearly scared the piss out of me there, Tere…quila." Nicolai was the first she saw, kneeling next to her as he was, with his helmet off to reveal a burdened expression on his otherwise rather handsome face.

"Thought you'd died on us." Shepard said; "As for the back, Williams administered a large dose of Medigel to combat the bleeding, the shock, the pain and the infection. Any burns you might still feel… is just the infection being beaten back."

"Ow… still hurts." She muttered, the suddenly found that two pair of eyes staring at her belonged to the remaining security officers, Vincent and Pendleton. Both had unreadable expressions, though Tequila knew what they were thinking; "I suppose you want to know what just happened?"

"Alliance Special forces. It's highly classified." Jane cut off any answer either Vincent or her subordinate might have had. Tequila was about to call her on the bullshit, it being an obvious lie that they were anywhere near special forces, but a pointed look from the rest of the group made her hold her tongue.

"I don't really care if you even grew wings. Right now, these things are loose on the ship, and there's over a thousand people out there in danger." Vincent shot it down, a determined expression on her face. Jane nodded and pulled Tequila to her feet. Tequila, in return, bit the inside of her cheek to avoid yelping with pain as her back felt like it had caught fire.

"That could be a problem." Corporal Adrian Dwaine said. It was an agreement that no one called him Shepard, and only referred to him as Dwaine or Adrian. Most of the team, Tequila included, gave him a confused look.

"The fuck you mean? You saying we can't handle a bunch of these things?" Hillary demanded, stepping close to the corporal. Once more, Hillary demonstrated a somewhat issue with authorities, something Tequila would, if they survived this shit, talk to Williams about.

Still, they had to get out alive first.

"A bunch? Sure, we can handle a bunch. Hey Private, how many of us do you see here?" At his question, Hillary, and even Tequila made an idle count;

"Ten?" The private asked, clearly not knowing why Adrian even asked. The corporal nodded, and bent to the floor, picking up the head of one of the zombies;

"Well like this, we have here a former member of the Ishimura's crew. Therefore, we must assume he was turned. And if he was turned, it means whatever caused this has a means of turning people into monsters. And, there are a thousand potential candidates on this ship."

"Oh fuck me…" Thomas muttered. Adrian nodded;

"If it was up to me, I'd say evac the ship and nuke it from a distance… or just scuttle it. We happen to have a planet below us, and not even a Garden World, just a Mars-type chunk of rock." The corporal said, looking over his rifle; "Still, it isn't up to me."

"Damn right it's not. I don't give a fuck if it's 'Day of the Dead Five' here, I'm not running away from these fuckers." Hillary exclaimed, pumping her shotgun to press her point.

"Regardless of how many there are, we have two goals now. First, we have to contact the bridge. Since we've already tried that, with no luck, we're hoofing it there." Jane said, passing through the doorway. The piles of incapacitated undead were stacked where the barrier had held them at bay, and the smell was nauseating.

"And second?" Vincent asked as much as demanded, walking next to Jane with her gun kept at the ready, aimed at every nook and corner. Something that disturbed Tequila was more than it should, was the fact that the screaming had stopped. No more echoes through the hallways, as if signaling a far worse event to come.

"We still have crew trying to fix your comms. Roku might be able to protect himself against these things, but protecting both Hammond, Daniels and Clarke… I don't know."

"We can split up or stay together. Personally, I'd rather we stay together, but as a captain, you hold the highest rank here." Vincent said, sounding oddly defeated, yet still determined to make the monsters pay for every life they had taken.

"We stay together. If we split up, that's when shit starts _really_ hitting the air-conditioner." Jane ordered, and left it at that. Tequila looked at the backs of the others, walking in the rear where she'd be less vulnerable to attacks;

"Fuck, this place hit the fan before we even got here…" She muttered to herself. Still, she agreed with the officers.

Splitting up, in a place like this… _bad_ idea.

"You holding up?" She looked to the side, noticing the large guard, Pendleton, looking at her with concern in his eyes. He was scared, she could see that much.

"My back hurts like hell, feels like a bug spat on me, my armor was ripped open by a zombie and I had to be saved by my goofy colleague. Yeah, I'm great." She tried making it sound like the cheerful sort of sarcasm, but knew it came out muttered and frustrated.

"That's some crazy shit your team's sporting. I mean, that guy, he was on _fire_. Saved my life, so not that I'm complaining or anything, but… Damn." He exclaimed, keeping his gun ready for use. Tequila's eyes found Thomas' green-painted back, walking ahead along with Ashley and Tengberg, though the latter kept casting concerned looks back at her.

"Yeah… Damn's about right." She muttered.

* * *

**In the event that you do not know what exactly it looks like when Tequila is armored up, try taking a look at "Sokka, Suki and Toph: Airship Invasion: Full scene [HD] and go to 01:27. I have long been a fan of Avatar, hence why a lot of the spiritual stuff going on is heavily inspired by the show.**

**Well, please do leave a Review, or Tequila will give you an iron-clad, very tight hug.**


	10. Why's it always me?

**You know the drill, a new chapter means a new part of the game. I think we can rule this out of the horror-genre, considering Hillary is in it. I mean, the woman's damn near impossible to scare! Anyway...**

* * *

**...Why's it always me?**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Flight Deck, Tram station

12:47

So far, the team had advanced from the fight without further encounters. There seemed to be a sort of understanding, either with the ship or between the monsters, that fighting a large group of armed people was a bad idea.

The sounds had come back though.

They were not the sounds of people screaming anymore though. Thát had started and stopped in a mere fifteen minutes' period when Jane's team had arrived on the ship. Had she known what they would be walking into, she would have contacted Alliance Command to have them turn the ship, innocents and all, into debris. What she had seen so far, what she was constantly hearing through the walls, was hell itself in physical format.

Howls, like an elephant with its throat torn out, resonated through the corridors, coming from both above and below at the same time. There was a constant scratching in the walls, like something or someone was trying to get through. More than once, a vent-fan had been kicked from the wall, snapping the entire team around to point weapons at the hole.

There never seemed to be anything. Only ghosts in the dark.

"I hate this place…" Corporal Adrian muttered, adjusting his rifle to rest against his shoulder.

"Oh really? I kinda like it here." Hillary deadpanned, offering the corporal a flat look through her visor; "Just needs some paint and a few less dead guys running around."

"Shut it, Pennyloafer. My back still hurts, and I'm not in the mood for bullshitting."

"Sorry, _mum_. Great Metalbending by the way. Real Toph-ish." The private bit back, then seemed to think better of her words; "But really, cool armor."

"Can you all please just shut it?" Jane ordered, causing her people to shut up faster than a Volus' purse, if they even used those; "Now, Vincent. This is your ship. To get to the bridge, how'd you proceed from here?"

The chief of security glanced around, her eyes stopping at the apparent office on the other side of the rails. Through wide glass-panes, they could see what seemed like a security-station, complete with chairs, some still-running software and holographic displays.

"Our best bets would be to find a way into that security-station, get the trams sent here and use it to get to the bridge." Unfortunately, there always was a catch; "However, the activation-cards will likely be with the personnel supposed to man that place, but if we're lucky, the databoard should work just fine." Jane hated when people used the 'if we're lucky' phrase. That was when people always started dying around her.

"Let me guess… they're zombies too, and we need to kill them to get the cards?" Jane sighed, idly checking her shotgun's condition. She'd found that rifles weren't much good against the undead, and blowing them apart with her shotgun seemed much more cost-effective.

"I'm not ruling it out. Far as I know, the infection started from the flight deck around the time you guys arrived. I'm hoping people have somehow held out, but… Fuck, my ship's getting boarded by fucking space-zombies, and I can't do shit about it."

"Reminds me of just about every mission I've been on so far." Tequila muttered. Her Pulse Rifle was in her hands again, though her Katana was loaded, safety off and the gun was prepared to be drawn and fired within the blink of an eye.

"Alright…" Vincent muttered, pulling her Omnitool up. A 4D map of the immediate area, corridors and rooms was shown; "Well, at least the nav-systems are still up. Means the bridge is still active. Wanna bet they're getting comms up sometime soon?"

"Not really. Still, Hammond and Daniels have an N7 and an Aspect with them. They'll be fine, right?" their Service Chief asked, his voice betraying the fact that he was worried about his mentor. The two guards, Chen and Johnston, had stayed with the Kellion, so at least Jane knew where she had them.

"Aspect?" Vincent said, looking at the Chief. Thomas seemed to realize he had said too much, and promptly followed Jane's advice to shut up about matters related to "shut-up-it's-secret" stuff; "Never mind…"

"We can call the tram from over there, right?" Jane asked, glancing around the room. Vincent nodded; "Good. Then we go… this way" Jane said, pointing out a set of corridors they could follow to get to an elevator that would take them to the security-station. While it was tempting to simply attempt crossing the tracks, the small EOD-lights revealed they were active, which meant electrified.

Which also meant no jumping across.

"That'll take us almost all the way back to the lounge" Tequila said, her eyes going between the tracks and the map; "What if we made a bridge across instead?"

Her question caused Jane to glance at the corporal, then to the track, back to the corporal, and then to remember just what Tequila was capable of. Jane could have smacked herself for forgetting it, considering what the corporal had pulled earlier.

"Why are you still a corporal?" Jane asked. Tequila merely shrugged;

"Dunno. So, do we go across or the long way-that-will-get-us-killed?"

"Think you can do it?" Jane asked. There _was_ a good ten meters across the track. Tequila scoffed at her question, a gesture Jane would normally take offence at. _Normally_ though, dead people didn't attack living people, so that point was kinda moot.

Tequila grabbed the corner of the wall next to the tram. Her fingers clawed into the metal and pulled, ripping the metal from the wall like a piece of tapestry. Once more, Jane found herself awed by the powers of what Roku called "Chi", as the corporal ripped a section of the wall, bolts and all, and dropped it on the ground.

Adrian whistled, clearly impressed; "Fuck me… how'd you do thát?"

"Cartoony powers." Hillary said, seeing as Tequila remained silent. Jane was thankful that Vincent seemed to respect her wish not to reveal how they did it, as Admiral Fisher had declared it a classified subject, as well as plastered everything concerning it with enough red- and yellow tape to cover Arcturus' hull.

"It'll do." Jane said. Tequila nodded and carried the piece of the wall to the edge of the platform. She placed the metallic plank on the edge and let it drop, then kicked her end into the ground hard enough to fuse it with the platform. The other side scraped against the windows of the security-station, dragging long lines down the reinforced glass-panes; "Fisher, take point through the window and secure the room."

For once, Thomas didn't as much flinch at her command as growling at it. The reaction reminded her too much of his response to her order on Virmire, that he was to charge in alone. In hindsight, she knew it would still be the way of entry to cost them the least casualties, but on the other hand, it had resulted in him being incapacitated for the rest of the invasion.

"Right…don't die while I'm gone, okay?" He muttered, tapping a boot on the makeshift bridge to test its durability. To his obvious annoyance, and Jane's satisfaction, the metal held. Setting another foot on it, he was not fully on the bridge, with nothing between him and the electrified tram-rails but a thin walkway of warped metal.

"Just clear the room. Don't go beyond it." Jane reminded him as he stopped by the window. The Service Chief looked at her in clear annoyance, something she had gotten used to over the months, and bashed in the window with his bionic hand.

* * *

Thomas jumped onto the floor, fire already burning at the tips of his fingers. He wasn't going to be caught by more of those mutated fucks running around. Truth be told, he was still utterly terrified of them, of what they represented. Just like the human husks, he found the remnants of their former features, the noses, eyes and remaining strands of hair, to be far more freakish and horrifying than even the hulking abominations made from Krogans.

The room itself wasn't as big as he would expect the control for a shipwide tram system to be. There were three booths, with overturned chairs, and enough blood painting the floor to fill a bucket or two. Most of the blood went into a trail that ended in the broken vent-outlet on the wall, while a set of footprints revealed someone wearing boots had left the room through one of its two doors. And for some reason, bloody handprints were all over the vending-machine in the corner of the room, as if the last wish of a dying man had been to try his luck at the contraption.

"It's clear!"

He turned his attention towards the door in front of him, active and unlocked from what the panel suggested. There was something, a sound, coming from behind it. He could hear someone mumbling and crying. _Someone's alive!_

Wasting no time to wait for the others, and even though he was technically disobeying an order, Thomas slammed the panel and rushed through the door the moment it opened. He ended up in a short hallway, dimly lightened by a few more-or-less broken lamps in the ceiling. There was a long trail of blood on the floor, leading towards where the sound came from.

At the end of the hallway, a legless man was slumped on the floor, sobbing and heaving for his breath while clutching something Thomas couldn't make out in the distance. In front of the man, another of the creatures was sprawled on the ground, arms, legs and head lying around it like it had been sliced clean off its body.

"Talos…fuck…" He whispered as he ran to where the man was slumped, instantly kneeling down next to him after kicking aside the grotesque remains of the monster; "Hey, hey are you… fuck, not "okay" can you hear me?"

The man kept sobbing, pointing an obviously broken hand at something on the wall next to him. As he brought out what Medigel he had to spare, Thomas glanced at the man's point of attention. It was blood. Blood on the walls._ This just went to Fucktown of creepy. _

The blood on the wall was written letters. Large, scrawled letters made from blood. In the dark, it was hard to see what the letters said, though Thomas really didn't care right now. As he tried administering Medigel to the man, he saw what the letters had been written with.

The entire left hand of the man had been cut or ripped off, leaving him with a bloody stump that revealed a bit of bone sticking out as well. Despite his religious orientation, Thomas was unable to resist the curse;

"Jesus Christ…" He fought down the bile even as he dosed the man's bloody stumps with as much Medigel he could spare. The door he had come through hissed open, revealing Ashley's more than annoyed figure running through, rifle at the ready when she saw him, and uttered a similar curse;

"Jesus Christ, Thomas. Don't fucking run…" She trailed off as she saw him trying to treat the man. As Thomas focused his attention on her, he didn't notice the sobbing had stopped. When he looked back, the reason was evident.

The man had died.

"Fuck… I don't even…" Thomas growled, kicking the wall in frustration. A man had just died in his care, and he hadn't even realized it, wasting Medigel on a corpse; "I don't even care. Fuck this ship, what the fuck did we even come here for?"

"Apparently, Alliance Command just thought they needed a comms-array fixed." Ashley muttered, briefly eyeing the "dead" monster at their feet; "You can always complain about lack of info when we get back."

"Yeah…" he huffed, idly glancing at the still unreadable letters. Figuring they were the man's dying confession, he might as well pay his respects by reading them. The flashlight in his Omnitool revealed, that the letters weren't exactly a confession.

"_CUT OFF THEIR LIMBS!"_ was written in still liquid blood, with thin, red trails running from a few of the letters. The marines both stared at the writing on the wall, so to speak.

"Well… either he had a dying wish for revenge..." Thomas muttered, glancing between the dead man, the dead zombie and the letters. When his eyes found the dead man, he once more noticed something odd, lying in the man's lap.

"Or, he wanted to pass on a piece of advice. Now that I think of it, they did seem to go down rather quick when we shoot their arms and legs off…" Ashley seemed to reach an epiphany at the same time as him, only Thomas was more focused on the odd tool in the corpse's lap.

"I noticed… what's… Hey, Ash?"

"What is it?" She asked, turning to look at Thomas, who had picked up the tool. It weighed a bit more than his modded Carnifex, and looked like a sci-fi electric drill. There even was a trigger where he'd expect it on the thing. Being the person he was, Thomas aimed the tool at the wall, not wanting to accidentally shoot someone.

A blade of plasma appeared where he'd even have expected something like a projectile to exit. Instead, it was more like a chainsaw of azure plasma, held in place by some unseen force, magnetic field most likely. The entire thing whirred like a chainsaw would, but without the sound of metallic teeth. Both stared at the tool in more than a little shock;

"Okay…this is unexpected. Why would a security-guard have a lightsaber?" Thomas muttered. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but feel a little awe at the thing in his hands. It looked like some worn tool, but it was made of _fucking plasma_! Far as he knew, no one knew how to make plasma-weapons aside from the geth.

"A what? Never mind… I don't… actually know what thát is." Ashley sounded just as confused and amazed as he was; "Better take it back to the group, let Jane see it. Maybe Chief Vincent knows what it is."

Thomas nodded, unable to form something intelligent to word, and extinguished the tool, or was it a weapon? As they entered the security-station, Jane appeared in the middle of a conversation over a vid-link, Clarke's face showing up on the other end without his protective faceplate covering his visor. Vincent though, had seemingly given up getting through the static between her and the bridge, and turned to look as they entered;

"Where the hell did you go, Fisher?" She demanded. Thomas would normally be tempted to say that she wasn't his superior, but the situation had choked all humor from him.

"I heard someone cry. Found a dying man and… he died, but…" Instead of saying more, Thomas instead held up the weapon/tool he had found on the dead man, allowing Vincent to take it.

"Where'd you get this?" She asked, more curious than sharply, though a note of hesitation was also in her voice.

"On the dead guy. What is it?" Ashley said. Vincent answered by turning on the device, bathing the immediate surroundings in a blue hue. There were some muffled gasps and whispers from the Normandy-crew, but the two security-officers seemed completely familiar with the weapon or tool, Thomas still wasn't sure _what_ it was for.

"It's… a prototype mining-tool, the plasma saw, I think the miners called it." There was something about the way she said it, like she knew more but would say. Apparently, Thomas hadn't been the only one to pick up on this.

"Ehm, quick question, please." Adrian said, stepping closer to Vincent and the saw; "Just when did we get plasma-tech cheap enough to make chainsaws with the stuff? I mean, I've only seen it in big guns so far, not… the size of a handgun."

"We didn't." Jane said, taking the tool from Vincent; "Chief, where did the Ishimura get these saws?"

"Only the Captain and the log-officers know who supplies the ship. You'll have to ask them."

"Yet, you knew what this was?"

"It's a mining-tool. Most of the lower-deck crew have them issued."

"So low-deck hands get… you know what? I'll just ask the Captain when we find him." Jane stated, implying that something illegal was going on. Seeing how the dead were walking, Thomas couldn't care less if someone was robbing banks on the ship, he just wanted to get out alive. Jane though… he never really felt like he knew what she was going to do. Instead of continuing the interrogation, Jane turned to the computer dominating most of the tram-side wall; "Okay… Vincent, this thing works?"

"It's powered alright, and the activation-cards are in… but the data board is fried." The woman followed the last bit with a muttered curse; "I don't know about you, but fixing systems isn't my strongest suite."

"I bet Tali could have fixed this shit faster that you could say "Keelah"… Okay, ideas?" Jane said. As none came up, she contacted the other team. For some reason, inter-team comms seemed to work, while inter-ship comms were fucked and fried.

"Clarke, Daniels?" Jane called. On cue, Isaac's face, though now hidden behind his faceplate again, came up on the screen. Thomas didn't miss the scratches on the plate, like a claw-mark.

"Clarke here. We ran into more of the fucks, but I think we've figured out how to kill them now."

"Pray tell." Jane said

"It's the limbs. Dunno why, but if you shoot off their arms and legs, they die. You can waster a ton of time trying to shoot them in the body, but the limbs does the job." Thomas sighed. It had been one of the things he was going to tell Jane, but might as well come from the eccentric N7. Jane simply nodded, as if she had known this already;

"Good work. Clarke, do any of you know what to do about a fried databoard for the tram-system?"

"Databoard… Databoard… one of the crew hands nearby should have a spare. Look for a technician, that's your best bet." Clarke said. Thomas looked around on instinct, but naturally didn't find a technician. He'd have noticed an extra body when he entered the room the first time.

"Good. How's things going on your end?"

"We're in Medical, I think… took the long route when dead guys started popping out of the walls. These things really don't give a shit when you shoot them." The N7 said. Jane nodded, then held the saw in front of the screen, allowing Isaac to see it as well; "Well… I'll be damned."

"You know what this is?" Jane asked, sounding just as surprised as Clarke seemed. Thomas' eyes widened as the engineer nodded; "How?"

"Three years ago, prototype plasma-technology was stolen from Lockheed Martin Corporate Technologies. The plans were never found and Chinese agents were suspected of the crime… Seems like there's more going on here."

"Agreed. Let's rendezvous at the bridge, then we can contact the Alliance and chat up the Captain. Shepard out." Jane said, then cut the transmission and turned towards the others; "Well, you heard him. Find a technician, dead or alive, and get a spare databoard. Don't. get. separated. You hear me?"

"Yes ma'am." The entire team, Vincent and Pendleton included, answered. Far as Thomas was concerned, he wasn't ready to trust someone who apparently knew something shady was going on, but Vincent had every bit as much desire to survive, so he decided to screw the ethics of it and just follow orders.

"We've got two doors, two options. One group takes Aquila, the other takes Fisher. Alenko, you're in charge of Fisher's team, Boss, you take Tequila's. Make up your own teams, but do it quickly. Vincent. You, Pendleton and I will remain here to hold the room. In case of an emergency, be ready to move. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am." Another round of affirmatives. Thomas felt it was unnecessary and time-wasting, but didn't bother commenting on it. _Great, I'm a team-pick… and Kaidan's my boss. Guess it could be worse._

He almost smacked his own face at the thought. There really was little that could be worse than submerging into the corridors of a ship under attack by the undead. _It's the fucking Scourge of Lordaeron here, just waiting for Arthas to… Not thinking that through, not thinking that through._

Too many "impossible" things had already happened for Thomas to dare even think about Arthas suddenly turning up. Instead, he watched Kaidan as the Lieutenant picked out his team, then followed as they proceeded through the door at the end of the room.

Of course, Thomas was put in front, along with Kaidan who led them. The team consisted of him, Ashley and Hillary, while the rest went with Boss. Immediately behind the door, they came to a parting of the corridor, with no real guide as to what path to pick. Kaidan seemed to do a mental coin-toss, then gestured for the right. Thomas, meanwhile, looked left, and found a pair of sickly yellow eyes, staring at him from the darkness. When he shone his flashlight at it, nothing was there. _What…_

He could still feel the malicious eyes burning at the back of his skull when he turned to follow the team, but once more as he looked back, nothing was there. _I'm seeing shit… bloody eye is acting up… but fuck if this ship isn't scary._

"Stay together people. Remember, go for the limbs." Kaidan said, his voice the usual rock of calm. Thomas sometimes wondered just how the man did it, remained calm no matter what. He'd actually share the man's calm if they had taken the plasma saw with them, but noooo, Jane needed that for study while the teams were out getting their asses zombified.

They stopped at the first door they got to, Kaidan using hand-signals to make the team form up, then palmed the interface, pointing his shotgun at the door. The door hissed open, revealing a descending ramp leading forward as far as Thomas could see, as well as a human arm lying discarded on the ground. _How did this place go to hell so fast?_

Kaidan ordered them forward with hand signals, taking point down the ramp. Thomas was about to follow when the sound of running, scuttling feet came from above. Pointing his own shotgun upwards, Thomas was jumped in almost the same second as his finger touched the trigger. Hypersonic pellets flayed the dead body as it hit him, then fell off him and tumbled down the ramp. Acting on instinct, Thomas pumped shots at both the body and the vent it had fallen from, tearing the torso apart and embedding pellets in the metal above him.

"FUCK!" He shouted, kicking the dead man as if he had done him personal offence. In a way the dead guy had, since landing on people wasn't exactly polite. Thomas was fairly sure Scorch would have made a joke about this.

"Relax, Chief. It's just a normal dead guy. You know, no fangs and shit?" Hillary asked, grinning as she nudged the body out of the way with her boot.

"I fucking… I knew that. Just… this place is getting to me."

"Just stay calm and move. We work as a team, we get through this." Kaidan said, not having lost his calm despite the events just taking place.

"Good thing you didn't say 'everything's alright' or 'looks quiet for now'." Hillary muttered, her own rifle ready, as was the underslung shotgun.

"I've seen enough horrors to know what one-liners to avoid, private." Kaidan said with a thin smile in his voice. Thomas blinked at the casualness of the lieutenant, but shook his head and proceeded. There was a reason Kaidan had survived so far, as well as why he was a lieutenant. The man was a biotic powerhouse, and remained calm pretty much through everything the galaxy had tossed at him so far.

As they reached the end of the ramp, the team rounded a corner and came to a new door. There was no marking or text above it, so Kaidan followed the same procedure as earlier and opened the door. This time, he waved Thomas through first. _Fuck me… this is going to end inn tears, I know it._

The room they entered wasn't a room at all. It was the mile-long corridor beneath the trams, extending for hundreds of meters in each direction before corners made it impossible to see the end. Near the left side of the door, a barrier of some sort had been set up, making advancement in that direction troublesome. Kaidan led them right instead.

An unnatural howl echoed down the long corridor, causing the hairs on Thomas' back to stand straight, and his knees to shake just a little;

"Ho-ly crap." Hillary for once sounded worried. Her usual brash attitude replaced by obvious fright.

"That sounded big and definitely not friendly. I think we should move out of the broad and wide corridor." Thomas said, speeding past Kaidan until he came to a new door. This one was active alright, but seemed to hold a new challenge. Something in the mechanism was fried, causing it to open and close with the speed and power of a cleaver. Even Thomas was apprehensive about touching it.

"Can we shut this thing down?" He asked, looking at Kaidan. The lieutenant seemed to mull over their options, while Hillary and Ashley were studying a decapitated corpse by the door. The head was visible on the other side, giving a hint of what had killed the guy. While Ashley seemed disturbed by the cause of death, Hillary picked up something unusual from the wrist of the corpse.

Thomas noticed what she was doing, and eyed the gadget already in the process of being strapped to the wrist of the private. He had no idea what made Hillary's fingers practically stick to anything shiny. Far as he remembered, that hadn't been the case on Eden Prime. Then again, five days wasn't the world to get to know people.

"The fuck is this thing?" Hillary asked, waving the weird wrist-device around on her right hand. It looked most of all like a six-panes heat sink held by a small computing-device. Accidentally, the thing went off as she waved it towards the snapping door, resulting in both Kaidan and the door slowing down to an almost comical speed; "Okay… this is fucked up."

"Jesus! Kaidan, are you alright?" Ashley exclaimed, moving to touch the lieutenant. Thomas stopped her;

"Don't. We don't know what just happened, so don't touch him." Behind her visor, Ashley's eyes snapped between her team-members, close to panicking at Kaidan's condition. The lieutenant was saying something, but whatever Hillary just did had slowed him down to a degree where his words came out too slow to understand. Kaidan was their only biotic present, so he could only help himself.

"Kaidan. Thumb up if you can hear me." Thomas said, speaking as slowly as he could. The lieutenant slowly raised his hand and the thumb went up, though it was clear the action was tiring him out.

"Fuck! I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean… I didn't know…I _don't _know what I just…" Hillary started, reducing her voice to a more and more frustrated state as she started piling guilt at the gadget. While she shouldn't have just waved something around, Thomas agreed that no one could have foreseen the thing being some sort of biotic amplifier or something. _Just what the hell do they have on this ship? Plasma-weapons, biotic wrist-gadgets?_

Luckily, the effect wore off after a few frustrating seconds, leaving Kaidan momentarily stunned, but otherwise unharmed.

"What _is_ that thing?" He asked, the tone in his voice ordering her to hand over the device. For once, probably because she had just unwittingly _attacked_ a superior, Hillary respected authority and obeyed without hesitation. Kaidan gave the device a once-over, seemed to consider something, and then pointed it at the door.

As had happened when Hillary had triggered it, the device emitted a biotic surge of energy that wrapped the moving part of the door in a stasis-field, slowing it down for all of seven seconds, before it wore off again. Kaidan triggered the thing again, but this time received no reaction from it. Thomas stared at the scene. _Okay… I am seriously fucked up confused now._

"So… it's run out of juice?" Ashley suggested. Thomas glanced around, noticing a strange sort of device fastened to the wall just next to the door. _'Stasis recharge'_ was written on it with easy-to-read white letters. Kaidan seemed to notice it as well, and held the device, now on his wrist, over the small recharger. Nothing happened.

"Okay, I'm open to ideas." The lieutenant said, casting a glance around. Whatever had made the sound earlier was big, and they were frustratingly exposed as it was. They also still needed to find a databoard and get back. Seeing how Kaidan and the others were trying to figure out the recharger, Thomas pulled up his Omnitool and opened a connection to the captain, and by extension the only two people who knew what was what on the ship.

Jane's face appeared seconds later, her helmet decorated by a new, long scratch across the visor, though it hadn't cracked the glass.

"Fisher? Status."

"Captain, we've found… okay, we're directly beneath you, I think. We've come across a malfunctioning door. We're working on it, but we've found a sort of biotic module. Hillary just accidentally put Kaidan in a stasis for a few seconds… whatever's going on here, they've fucked science way more than even Anna could come up with." This seemed to make Jane contemplate her words, before she as much physically as verbally hauled Vincent to the screen.

"What've you found?" The Chief asked him. Thomas was starting to get the feeling that the woman knew a lot of things she hadn't told them. As long as it was limited to some messed up corporate secrets, Thomas really couldn't care less.

"A biotic module that non-biotics can use." Thomas said, as Kaidan finally managed to figure out the recharger for the device. Vincent scratched her upper lip for a moment before she seemed to come up with the answer.

"The stasis module, I think. Either that or the kinesi…what can it do?" Vincent corrected herself halfway through saying something else. Thomas frowned behind his helmet. While he didn't care for corporate secrets, if the Chief was holding back something that could help them, he'd be seriously pissed. Still, he answered her;

"It stops things from moving."

"Stasis then. It'll link with your armor, but without your own stasis-generators, you'll probably be spending some time at the rechargers." Yeah, no shit. It was clear Vincent wasn't surprised at the fact that biotic gadgets were laying around, even less so that they existed. As Thomas was trying to figure out if he actually outranked the woman, or the other way around, Kaidan froze the malfunctioning door, gesturing for them to move through in the seconds-long window.

"Moving up a ramp now… no sign of…" Thomas trailed off as a series of heavy, running sounds came from above. The team froze in place, weapons pointed at the ceiling as well as just about every opening big enough for a grown man to squeeze through.

Soon enough, the sounds faded into the distance, as if the team wasn't worth making a meal of. _Figures… they'd love to zerg-rush us when we're all together, but split up, it's suddenly 'oh noes, they haz guns'…_

"Okay, we should take one room at a time. I'll take point. Ashley, Hillary. Thomas, watch our six." Kaidan ordered them forward. That's when the lights died, flickering off with heavy, metallic claxons.

"Fuuuuuck… what now?" Thomas groaned, his left hand holding the shotgun while his right was already casting a green hue around him from the dancing flames in his hand.

"Stay calm. Just a system giving out." Ashley said, putting a hand on his shoulder; "Ships like these have back-up generators for every sections. Give it a few seconds."

"Afraid of the dark, Chief?" Hillary mocked, her rifle's flashlight illuminating a patch of the opposite corridor; "I mean, what's the worst that could happen?"

Thomas wanted to punch her for tempting fate, but decided upon aiming his shotgun at where one of the vents had just been kicked out, the heavy metal breaking on the floor. His heart hammering in his throat, the night vision in his helmet didn't show anything but the broken vent.

"I fucking hate jumbscares." Thomas muttered as the lights came back on. Where there had been nothing before, not a human leg lay discarded beneath the broken vent, white bone protruding from the limb; "And I'm not afraid of the dark."

"Right."

"Form up, people." Kaidan brought them back into the mindset, and they entered the first door. Behind it was a much larger room, centered upon a mechanism with two mechanical, crane-like arms meant to somehow interact with a tram sitting on the tracks. The group stopped at the entrance.

"Spread out, check your corners and stay away from the vents."

"And shoot before asking. Got it." Hillary said, pulling the barrel for her shotgun. Thomas decided he needed one of those. As the team moved through the room, they received an incoming call from command, in this case Jane;

"Listen, there's more shit to the heap. The databoard isn't our only problem, we've also got a broken tram blocking the rails. There should be a tram-maintenance station somewhere on your side of the tracks, the broken tram should already be sitting ready for replacement there."

"You a psychic, Shepard? We just entered the repair-station." Hillary chuckled, then tapped the active console for one of the crane-arms. It slid out, grabbed a handle on the tram and pulled, but didn't do much else.

"Good. Call back when you've fixed the damn thing... Team two just called in… they've found the databoard. Shepard, out." Transmission ended, Kaidan looked at the rest of the team and shrugged;

"Well, that's one less burden. Let's see if we can't figure this out. Thomas, see if there's a console for the other arm." He gestured at the other side of the room. Thomas' lips pulled into a sour line as he marched for the connecting ramp;

"Why is it always me who must do the damned things?" He muttered. Hillary snorted with laughter;

"Because you're the one with the biggest tænder and the grimmest tøj." She pressed out through the inappropriate laughter. The entire team, Thomas included, stared at her in shock. He was the only one who really understood what she had said though.

"What… did you just say?" He really wasn't sure if he should suspect her of being a jumper as well, or be pleasantly surprised at her taste in television. The private just shrugged, giggling as she ripped open a locker and raided it for Medigel, of all things.

"Hey, I do have good taste in comedy. The classics always beat the modern crap anyway."

"'Grimmest toej'?" Kaidan asked, looking confused at the two youngest marines on the team. Thomas knew he really should be tensed up and scared shitless at the situation, but this was so surprising that he found his fears overwhelmed by shock.

"It's a Danish comedy show. Older than your grandparents… huh, didn't realize those guys were still popular." He sighed the last part as his fears started seeping back in, reminding him of the surrounding death and chaos.

As he reached the start of the descending ramp, Thomas instinctively jumped back as the vent across from him was kicked out, followed by one of the undead crewmembers. It roared, almost laughed and gurgled in bestial rage as it flexed its bladed arms and started running towards him.

Now that the room was illuminated, Thomas realized that it wasn't as much the fear of the creatures that had stunned him before. It was what they represented, what they had been. It was like the Reapers and their husks. Psychological warfare at its most basic, force the enemy to shoot at their friends. Was this the Reapers' doing?

He didn't as much hear the shouted warnings from behind him, as much as they were registered as voices in the background, part of the background noise. The charging monster took all his attention, but for once, Thomas wasn't cowering in fear. He saw the monster, and he saw the human it once was. He also saw that it was a disgusting abomination.

Then the monster saw his burning fist pummeling through its head, before Thomas' boot kicked it back down the ramp, followed by a shotgun-blast to each limb. As sudden as it had appeared, the undead was now just dead.

"I'm fine." He called back, to the obvious relief of his teammates who had been on their way up the ramp when he killed the undead crewmember. _These things really need a name aside from zombies and 'undead crewmembers'…_

"Good. You see a console over there?" Kaidan called as Thomas reached the other side of the room. Kaidan, meanwhile, had taken up a place at the controls for the entire machinery; "Looks like the second arm's malfunctioning. Hillary, watch for more hostiles, Ashley, take my place."

The lieutenant then stood next to Thomas as he tried for the second time to activate the malfunctioning arm. The arm itself wasn't malfunctioning, but the claw supposed to grab the broken tram clearly was. _Okay… fuck, how to solve this… like a fucking mini-game._

Kaidan solved the problem surprisingly easy. When the malfunctioning claw grabbed the tram, he hit it with a surge of the stasis-module. In the moment the claw slowed down, Kaidan signaled Ashley to activate both arms.

"Well… that's one way to do it." Thomas muttered. On the other end of the room, Hillary shot open a locker that signaled 'locked' with a small, official red light. Locks had never really bothered her, and a zombie-ship wasn't going to be the first time she stopped due to a locked locker (because wasn't thát just a delicious wordplay?). Inside the locker, a small, heavy clip of metal was the only reward. Still, it looked like something important, so she snatched it from the container.

Just then, the vent next to her blew open, and another of the undead fucks jumped out. It was on her before she even had a chance to aim her gun at it. Instead, she was forced to grab both its arms with her own hands, discarding her rifle over simple defense.

"Fuck! A little _help_ here?" She called, panic entering her voice. She knew they wouldn't be in time, as she was on the far side of the room from even Ashley, who just _had_ to prance over to check on her boyfriend. So (and she had gotten out of similar situations before, though not with the guy being undead) she slammed her helmeted head into the face of the attacker, stunning it enough for her to move her legs beneath it and kick it off her.

Even as bullets started biting into its back, the undead would-be rapist came at her with barred, (though now broken because fuck the thing) teeth and flailing claws. Hillary grabbed her rifle, pumped the shotgun before she blew the legs away under it. As it clawed towards her, the firing from the rest of the team stopped.

"You know… " She said, blowing one of its arms off. It still kept moving; "I've seen plenty of way scarier shit on the streets than you. Zombies? Bitch please, try pushers or drug-addicts." She grinned, then blew the remaining arm off. The zombie fell dead.

"Whooo! That just pounced out like fourth of July." She yelled, adrenaline riding her system. She then stomped its head in, spreading mush and decaying brain all over the floor; "And now it's dead."

She could see Thomas palm his helmet where he stood, and could hear him mumble something about her not taking things seriously. She grinned again, loving the reactions she could prod from her poor, unfortunate sap of a superior, (and she took things plenty seriously). He was just _too_ easy to provoke.

Kaidan tried to ignore the obvious conflict between the two, even Ashley tried calming Thomas down. Hillary sauntered towards him, her weapon at the ready as the lieutenant contacted Jane (because John was the one she would call Shepard. He'd been the one to save their asses on Eden Prime after Thomas had gotten them out of the colony) to tell her that the tram was fixed. Apparently, so was the computers for the tram, and no one had died in the meantime. Goody.

"Alrighty then. Race ya back to the control-room?" She asked, suppressing a giggle as Thomas slapped his own helmet again. Who was to decide that just because the ship was loose with the Evil Dead (badass movie, she'd seen it three times.) she couldn't have a bit of fun?

"How about we just focus on making it back in one piece, then we can always try racing each other to the tram?" Ashley said, a little annoyed with her. It had always been like that, and Hillary wouldn't have it any other way. 'Sides, her brother got to bitch around, taking the piss on people and complain about his bones. Sure, he didn't like her either, never even publically acknowledged her, but she was fine with that too. She'd had a fucked up life, sure, but then again, normal lives were boring.

As the team exited the room, they all bumped into Thomas, who was staring at the ceiling. Following his gaze, they saw something new, crawling on the other side of the ceilings transparent ducts. It was less human than the regular zombies, with something like a tail waggling around behind it.

"Oh God… is that its _spine_?" Ashley muttered. Thomas fired at the undead, only for his pellets to embed themselves in the transparent metal. The creature seemed to take offence though. It snarled at them, then jumped into one of the vents leading upwards, gone from view. Thomas, next to her, took his shotgun down;

"I… think we're dealing with more than just regular zombies here."

* * *

**Hillary's pov is sort of an experiment to me. Her mind, as a lot of you might have guessed, is a bit less... normal, than the rest of the crew. Hence she can often have some sort of inner monologue with herself. (And isn't thát just handy?)**

**Also, I am currently blessed by the fact that one of my readers ' ' is doing some fanart for the story. It'll likely replace the front for either Book 1 or this one, not sure yet. Probably this one though. **

**Well, that's it for this time. I'm off to co-write "into the Terminus" with tmroc now. I suggest you give the story a try, even if it seems a bit odd in the first chapter. Funny story, it's actually a side-story of sorts to this one :)**


	11. Captain on Deck

**Here's the next part. I'm following neither Downfall nor Dead Space 1, but instead merging the two together. I think this is going to be fun to write, so far it certainly has been ;)**

**There is a chance this Book will be solely the interlude between ME1 and ME2, but so far I am not sure. If that happens, I'll be changing the front-pic for the story. Anyway, enjoy some more Dead Effectiveness or something... I dunno, too tired to come up with anything better right now.**

**(And to point it out before I'm being asked/accused of it: No, I am not bashing Vincent. She is a badass woman, but would have issues with taking orders from a complete stranger, such as Jane.)**

* * *

**Captain on Deck**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Flight Deck, Tram system

13:32

There were a lot of things Thomas hated. He hated needles, the dark, monsters, dying and generally being subjected to attempted murder from all sides.

One thing he especially hated, was being the center for a biotic lift, regardless of how friendly it was. Biotics, he had found out, were the direct and utter opposite to his flammable powers, and seemed to wash through his fiery barriers back on Virmire.

His dislike carried over in near-panic, when he was lifted from the bottom of the corridor running beneath the tram-system. It had been Jane's idea to simply lift the team from the bottom and up, instead of going back the normal way. (Because apparently, "normal" was abnormal for the Normandy-team. Could they even still be called that?)

It hadn't helped that Hillary had taken the opportunity to not only enjoy being lifted biotically, but also make fun of his fear of heights. When he touched down, he scowled at the private.

"That does it." Hillary declared as she watched Kaidan land on the ground; "I call dibs on the biotic module-thing. Everyone else got powers or plasma-swords."

"Awfully snippy for a private, ain't she?" Pendleton muttered, though Thomas found himself close enough that he heard it. Raising a brow behind his helmet, he turned his head to glance at the big man.

"Maybe." Was all he bothered saying. He wasn't going to actively _defend_ the blasted woman, no way ever. He had enough to do with defending himself and the others, Ashley above the others, from zombies coming out of the vents like freaking xenomorphs. And he was still pissed that she teased him for being afraid of heights.

"Alright, people. Get on the tram already. We're picking up Clarke and his team in Medical, then we're headed for the bridge."

"We should try _saving_ the goddamn people still fighting for their lives here." Vincent argued heatedly, looking nowhere close to simply accepting Jane's orders to abandon the civilians still being slaughtered all over the ship.

"Mission-parameters have changed, Vincent." Jane stated as they boarded the tram. Her voice allowed for no room to argue; "We're getting to that bridge. Then we get a message out, get the Alliance to show up and blow this thing to hell, preferably while we're sitting in an escape-pod."

"I really hate this ship…" Adrian muttered again, slumped on the seats. His shotgun resting in his hands, cradled like a child, the corporal had taken up three seats in his apparent attempt to sleep. Thomas stared, not sure what to say about a man who could seemingly take a nap on a zombie-infested ship. Then again, the guy had been the sole survivor of a colony supposed to train the next generation of super-soldiers.

"Clarke, we're coming towards your platform. Status?" Jane called, opening a link to the N7. There was a moment of static, before something definitely inhuman howled. Then there was the sound of a weapon booming, flesh being torn and something heavy hitting the ground.

"You owe me one, Clarke." A woman said on the other end. Kendra Daniels, it seemed, knew how to handle a gun, to Thomas' surprise. Where had a techie learned that?

Jane waited for the engineer to pay attention before speaking;

"Clarke? Status?"

"Captain. Sorry, was a bit…preoccupied. Seems there's more to these fuckers than the whole Evil Dead syndrome…" Behind Jane, Hillary grunted in laughter, somehow finding something funny; "But we managed to find a store of sorts on this deck. Broke it open… well, it's close to the platform, you can see yourself when you get here."

"Anything interesting?" She asked, eying Vincent suspiciously out the corner of her eye, behind her helmet.

"Mmm, you could say that. Whoever's supplying this ship seems to owe the Alliance a few answers. Any losses on your end so far?"

"Nope. Anything new you can tell me about the Biotic modules we found?"

"Hmmm… afraid not. I've tried accessing databases, but we're completely shut off from the outside galaxy. Oddest thing though… looks like it's… but…" The man trailed off on the other end, causing Jane to worry something had happened; "Fuck, I hate it when things don't make sense."

"What's wrong?"

"Daniels and I had a look at the patterns… by the way, thanks for lending us that geth. Roku's been really helpful so far." Jane was momentarily taken aback at the change, but nodded regardless. The screeching of wheels told her that they were coming up on the station; "I hear the tram coming. Will talk in person. Clarke out."

Thomas joined Adrian, though he opted to simply slide to the floor instead of trying to fight the corporal over the seats. He was _very_ tired, and the mission, if it could even still be called that (seeing how it had more or less become a fight for survival) was heading towards a pile of shit. He _knew_ it was, just didn't know how or when or why. _But the zombies factor in somehow…and they really need a better name._

As the tram stopped, he expected the new passengers to step on. Instead, Jane left the tram, more or less non-verbally ordering the rest to stay the fuck put. Thomas obeyed the silent order, though he picked his shotgun back up and pointed it at the doorway, just to be safe.

Jane grimaced when she saw what Isaac's team had found. At first, it looked most of all like he had done a Black Friday and ransacked the first the best kiosk he could find. (She never really understood where all the stuff was stored in those things). As she stopped next to the group though, greeted by Roku with a polite nod, she took a moment to glance at what Clarke had found. Daniels was the first to talk though;

"Captain Shepard. I think this will interest you." There was something of a smirk on the woman's face, even despite the dried splatter of blood in her hair, the ponytail long-since dissolved into a mess of tangled brown and yellow. Jane followed the woman's suggestion, eyes locking on the contents of the emptied store.

"What am I looking at?" She asked, trying to figure out what the odd device in Kendra's hands was. It looked a lot like the plasma Saw, but had a much more slim build. As a response, Kendra pulled some control on it, unfolding the weapon, because a weapon was indeed it's description (was that even a real wording? Fuck it, she couldn't care less right now).

The weapon unfolded, sporting three visible laser-aided sights cutting through the relatively dusty air. There was no visible barrel as much as there seemed to be a single long opening in the weapon.

"Not entirely sure, actually." Kendra said, her voice hinting at the underlying message that she hadn't dared firing it yet. Jane sighed;

"Vincent." The order was spoken, but firm enough, and with enough authority, that shouting wouldn't have made much difference. The Chief of Security, and thus the only one among them to realistically have an idea of what they were handling, huffed with clear annoyance at being ordered around, but obeyed nonetheless.

"What is it, we're wasting time here." She was clearly both stressed out and annoyed, frustrated yet again that the Alliance soldiers not only assumed command from her, but also seemed to ignore the plight of the crew dying all over the ship. Jane was ignoring it though, but cold, hard facts stated that they were in no position to help people already endangered, only those who had managed to keep themselves safe.

'Safe' in this case, would most likely be the bridge, as even freighters had automated systems meant to protect the bridge from being breached. Turrets, even if they were small, could stall a sizeable force for longer than one would think. Then again, zombies didn't seem to care about running into gunfire. _Man… this is getting shittier by the minute._

"This. This is 'what'. What is it?" Jane said, handing Vincent the weapon. The woman seemed actually more surprised than anything else at that, which made Jane wonder if the Chief had any idea at all what the thing was. The response was _exactly_ that, though.

"What's one of these doing up here…" Vincent muttered, testing the thing's sights; "I don't get it."

Jane snapped her fingers to the Chief, a hard thing to do in armor.

"Well?"

"It's a 211-V Plasma Cutter… It's a mining tool, why's it in Medical?"

"This keeps getting weirder and weirder. Alright, we can check the rest in the tram. Clarke, Hammond, bring what you can carry. We're moving." Jane said, dragging a hand down the side of her helmet. She gently, but firmly, took the plasma cutter (and wasn't that just fantastic? Another example of fucked up technology on a mining-vessel of all places) back from Vincent. She really, honestly, had no idea what was going on, but figured she could trust the Chief until the dangers had passed.

Hammond and Clarke picked up what the engineer had managed to haul from the automated shop before the damned thing sealed itself up, then entered the waiting tram as the last two. When all had entered, the attention of the crew was turned to the newly acquired stuff. Jane called it "stuff" because some of it looked nothing like a regular weapon (and was that a fucking industrial _saw_?). It was. There was a tool or weapon or something, that had a giant, industrial saw blade that could be mounted on a person's arm.

As if she had been reading Jane's thoughts, Hillary jumped to;

"So much dibs on the chainsaw!"

"You already said that with the plasma saw…" Nicolai muttered, having apparently been eying the weapon himself. Jane suspected most of the crew was indeed paying rapt attention as she had Vincent go over what little Clarke had managed to force from the damn kiosk.

"Who the fuck puts a flamethrower in a kiosk in a hospital on a ship?" Thomas asked, hefting the hydrazine torch with a questioning look that shone through his helmet.

"Maybe they needed it to exterminate extreme cases of crabs?" Hillary asked, causing Nicolai to erupt into a coughing fit; "What? These ships are out for months. Bound to be a whole lot of banging going on to pass the time."

"The fuck are you talking about?" Nicolai asked, visibly glaring annoyed at Hillary. The private grinned audibly;

"When a man and a woman feel like it, they take off-"

"Private, could you please stop unnerving our heavy-weapons user?" Tequila muttered, glairing at the younger woman from behind her visor. No way in hell the woman was taking it off, Jane knew thát much. Considering the fact that Tequila's group had been jumped by something straight out of "The Thing", that had tried giving the Hispanic corporal a more-than-close kiss, she understood the woman perfectly well.

"Sorry, sorry…" Though she didn't sound like she was particularly sorry at all. Jane repressed a groan, turning back to Vincent's explanation. At least the chief had paused while Jane had been paying attention to her (more or less juvenile and occasionally idiotic) crew.

"The Ripper…Not the real name, of course, but the guys in refining called it that." Vincent tried giving off a casual shrug, though the constant stress she had been under for more than twenty-four hours made the gesture pretty much a fail.

"I still seriously call dibs on it." Hillary stated in the background. Jane ignored her, in favor of focusing on Vincent.

"It's a close-combat weapon?" Jane asked. Vincent gave her a flat stare, visible thanks to her lack of helmet.

"It's a stone-carving tool." She deadpanned. Jane frowned. Why was it that whenever they found "tools" on this ship, said "tools" tended to be made with manslaughter as a second purpose?

"That's not a no."

"It's not a yes either." Vincent said, pointing the tool at the side of them where no one sat. She activated something on the tool. Jane expected the blade to spin in place.

She didn't expect that it would fly from the tool, then spin in the air just in front of it.

There was a small thud as more than one jaw hit the bottoms of their helmets, Jane's included. The bloody saw blade was hovering (fucking hovering without a sign of Eezo being used!) before Vincent, who then deactivated the tool, causing the blade to fall to the ground before picking it back up, reinserting it into the tool.

"It… is… the PERFECT ZOMBIE-KILLER." Hillary almost shouted (Scratch that, she did shout. Jane's grimace attested to it); "Gimme Gimme Gimme!"

Pendleton, the largest of them all, had been silent up until now, though his expression spoke of deep confusion and disbelief;

"Are you _sure_ you're the Normandy-crew? The guys who brought down Saren?" He asked in disbelief, staring at each of them; "You seem fucking weird half the time..."

Jane didn't bother shooting the man down (verbally, of course). It simply wasn't worth it, and anyway, the man had a point. The crew, Hillary in particular, was acting more and more unprofessionally.

"We're the ones and onliez." Hillary said, managing to snatch the "Ripper" as it was aptly named, just before Adrian got to it. The man scowled beneath his helmet, but said no more as he returned to his seats. Hillary, meanwhile, cackled lightly as she brandished her new tool; "This is going to _rock_."

"Yeah well, we're almost at the last deck. Be ready, and for Christ's sake, Corporal Dwaine, get your ass up from that seat. We're on a mission here, in case you forgot that." Jane snapped, causing the corporal to flinch, though the pace with which he sat was nowhere near military efficiency.

"Not at all, Captain."

"Okay. Vincent, ETA?"

"A minute, if nothing gets in t-" The chief started. Jane interrupted her with a hand slapped down on her mouth, to the obvious frustration, annoyance and anger of the woman in question. Jane glared at her like she had killed her best friend (impossible, really, considering a thug had taken care of that once, and Saren the other time, then some sort of bug-race called the Collectors had finished the job, and the final candidate was on the tram, perfectly alive).

"Don't. _Ever_. Use 'if's and 'as long's around us." She had had far, far too much unnatural and impossible shit happen when someone stated those fatefully moronic words. Considering where they were, she wasn't going to risk it. Vincent nodded furiously, anger and irritation burning in her eyes;

"What the fuck was that for?" She exclaimed, slapping away Jane's hand; "I'm not buying the 'if's shit. What the hell is your problem?"

"Oh believe me, those 'if's are definitely an issue around us." Thomas chuckled, though it was more of a strained attempt to lighten the mood. He didn't really _like_ Vincent, but she seemed like the type of person who would give hell in rules to do what was right. _Just like Garrus…_

While the memory of his Turian friend caused a spike of pain, Thomas swallowed and focused his attention on his surroundings. Nicolai and Tequila were in the process of checking over their heavy weapons, while Adrian was sitting, now at least just taking up a single seat. Hillary was cradling her new toy, a weapon defying logic by all accounts, while Clarke seemed to be taking an interest in the ranged version of the plasma saw, the 'plasma cutter'. (Honestly, couldn't they have been more creative with naming?) Hammond and Kendra were discussing something in low voices, and he frankly didn't care what anyway.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Last stop, Bridge, Underwear and hopefully less undead bad guys." Hillary called, giving the Ripper a test spin without activating it. Thomas shuddered slightly at the combination of Hillary and a hover-chainsaw. There was just no way that was a good idea, and he suspected her mentality had somehow deteriorated since being brought out of the hospital. _Then again… she was a bit nutty on Eden Prime too. I missed something, didn't I?_

Surprisingly, or rather the opposite, the platform they arrived at was exactly like the other two in design, with the only difference being it lacked the signs of bustling traffic. It was clean, more or less, and held a small room with glass walls, complete with seats, a screen and everything. _Well, shit… looks like a bus stop._

"Form up. Vincent, point with me. Everyone else, keep your guard up. If it isn't human, shoot." Jane ordered. Thomas found a strange sense of relief in having someone in charge who wasn't panicking over the dead rising. True, he despised her when she ordered him on regular suicide-runs, but Jane never seemed to actually overestimate anyone's abilities.

As they stacked up on the door leading off the platform, Thomas sighed when he saw Hillary once more prying open one of the lockers hanging on the wall. Pendleton noticed it too, and grabbed her wrist as she was breaking open the container;

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

"What?" Hillary actually seemed honestly confused at what he was angry about. The lack of helmet allowed those paying any attention, top see a vein pumping in the man's temple.

"Are you fucking _stealing_ from us now?"

"Hey, it's called… I don't know, but it's not stealing considering your trash-shit systems cost us our fucking frigate. It's compensation, just so you know." She growled, waving what she _had_ already taken, a container with three saw blades, (Why there were industrial saw blades on the bridge, Thomas had no idea) in front of the large guard.

"Put those back, Private." Jane said, her voice commanding despite the fact she wasn't even _looking_ at Hillary.

"What? Come the fuck-… _Fine…_" She groaned, slamming the saw blades back into the locker, then shut it with enough force to make door fall off its hinges; "Not my fault."

Thomas resisted a groan as Jane palmed the interface for the door, opening it with a gentle, _functional_ whoosh. Something that worked, Talos be praised and all that. (Honestly it was a miracle something legal worked on this damned ship)

The bridge seemed to be connected to the platform by a broad corridor, with a security-station on the left. The left side was plated with polarized glass, meaning there was probably someone glaring daggers at them from the other side. Not that Thomas really cared. If he could handle zombies, he could handle guards. Vincent, walking next to Jane, seemed to wave whomever was behind the glass, down with a commanding gesture. _Is she the commanding officer of the entire ship's security?_

"Well shit, another kiosk. Can we raid this one too?" Hillary exclaimed, bounding ahead for the shop or kiosk or whatever the hell it was called (The sign above it said "Store", but Thomas knew what a Store looked like. This wasn't a store.), and started trying to interact with it; "Shit won't work."

"You need an authorized RIG to use the stores on the ship, and fucking _stop trying to steal from us!_" Pendleton snapped, causing the private to turn a mocking gesture at him. (It was concealed behind her helmet, so really, what was the point?)

"Private, act like you're actually on a mission." Jane snapped, causing Hillary to cast one last glance at the "store" before following suit as Vincent stopped at the door to the "Main Atrium", the sign above the door read; "That means act professionally."

"I get it; no foraging." The youngest woman on the team deadpanned. Thomas pressed his eyes shut, repressing the urge to insult the private. It was really, really hard not to. Because she totally deserved being served back. He was relieved when the double-doors opened, revealing the bridge in all its… wideness, to the crew. _Well fuck me… really puts the CIC to shame._

The bridge, or atrium, was easily wider than the top-deck of the Normandy had been long, maybe even half the entire Normandy could have fitted in the room. All along the sides of the atrium (he might as well call it what the crew called it), people were seated or standing by holographic displays, all of them glancing nervously at the arrivals as they were noticed. _Well… this is awkward._

At the center of the massive room (and it was really freaking massive), an elevator acted like connection to levels below and above, while it also seemed to act as a support. Right next to it was a sort of raised plateau. And on that plateau was a man in a very official-looking navy uniform, white hair and beard, and an expression that could have scared off Freddy Krueger. _Why don't we just point thát guy at the zombies? They'll run the fuck away for sure._

"Boy, does he look pissed." Hillary mused from next to him, prompting Tequila to slap the back of the private's helmet, and Ashley to sigh in exasperation. Thomas touched her hand, offering what compensation for the constant madness he could. Her own fingers curled up, gently gripping his for just a moment. _Yep, that's pretty much our relationship. Constant near-death situations, madness and impossible enemies trying to kill us with big guns._

"Vincent! What the _Hell_ is going on?!" The man certainly had a voice to match his expression, that much was now confirmed. Even though it wasn't directed at him, Thomas still winced at the man's tone.

"Sir, we're under attack from something that's taking over the crew. Pendleton and I are all that's left of the Flight Deck's teams, and we haven't seen anyone else."

"Goddammit. We're losing engines, and crewmembers are dying by the dozen every second! Get to engineering and find out what the hell happened to the engines. We don't get those thrusters back online, our cargo will drag us back towards the planet!" The man shouted, completely ignoring the Kellion's crew.

"Sir, with all due respect, these things, these… undead, they don't give a shit if we shoot them." Vincent argued. Thomas didn't blame her. _He_ didn't have much reason to personally fear the undead, but everyone else relied on weapons that seemed more or less ineffective.

"Then come up with something! You already let these_ strangers_ onto the ship, I'm sure you can use them to get to the engines." The man was acting like someone was making fun of him, his temper rising with almost each syllable. Of course, it could be the stress from his ship being under attack. Apparently, Jane took this as a good time to step in. The Captain furrowed his brow and glared at her; "And who the hell are you?"

"Captain Jane Shepard, Alliance Navy. Benjamin Mathius, before _any_ of us do _anything_, you need to explain just how the hell this shit started." She demanded, though her voice hadn't reached the 'I'm-going-to-kill-you-with-my-voice' level yet.

"Who gave you authority to make demands of me?" The man sneered, obviously certain that Jane couldn't overrule him on his own ship. Thomas couldn't see her face, but the confident smirk was clear in Jane's voice.

"Alliance Admiral, Anna Cologne Fisher. Now please, answer me." Thomas was taken completely aback at this. What did Jane mean by that? Why had Anna given her permission to boss around the captain of a vessel they were just supposed to repair? _What the hell is going on here?_

The man blanched, then seemed to pop a gasket.

"We retrieved a load of minerals from Aegis Seven. This is a mining-vessel, and my crew is getting slaughtered while _you_ stand here, interrogating me." He snarled. Jane, while obviously set in her ways and stubborn as usual, seemed to see some sense in the man's words.

"True. Kaidan, Clarke, take the team to engineering. If it gets too hot, don't risk your lives. Daniels, you are staying here with me." She ordered, then turned. Thomas stared, blinking in surprise at the turn of events. _Why the hell is she always staying back? She's the strongest biotic we know aside from Liara. I really hate this ship._

* * *

Jane watched the teams return through the main door, then turned back towards Mathius, while Kendra remained at the base of the plateau. Jane, now free of her crew, people she trusted and cared about, let the hammer drop.

"Captain Benjamin Mathius, by Directive 4, §12 of quarantined systems, you are hereby ordered to step down from acting command, and reveal everything about your original purpose by going to Aegis Seven, as well as the true nature of your cargo and contents of ship." Jane allowed herself a harsh smirk at the man's sputtering.

"Wha- You have no right- You can't do that! I know why you are here." The man's voice and expression suddenly became a notch creepier; "Oh yes, I know why you are here."

"Humor me." Jane said flatly, not backing away. The Admiral had briefed her on the risk that religious fanatics had infiltrated the chain of command on certain ships, the Ishimura being one of them. Sadly, it seemed the old sociopath had been right. _Well fuck… _

"The Alliance sent you to silence us! We found a Marker, and you're going to try and make it so nobody ever knows." The man argued, pointing a remarkably muscular finger at her visor. _If he pokes me, I break the fucking thing off…_

The man's apparent luck had that he didn't poke her. He still pointed at her though, not done with his accusations. Keeping most of her attention on the man, Jane called up his information on her HUD, betraying none of it with a reaction.

"_Benjamin Mathius, Industrial Captain, Planet-Cracker-class clearance. Born: 2129 -?. Known associate and member of the Church of Uniotology. Considered potential mole in Alliance structure. Honorably discharged from Alliance Space Vessel 'Remington' in 2176. Became Captain of the MSV Ishimura 2177."_ Allthewhile, Jane had paid attention to what was "uttered" at her, but said nothing herself.

"You want to interfere with our mission. These creatures, they are just a test of our faith, nothing more. The Marker must be delivered."

"So, you _do_ have a Marker." Jane said. It was a statement far more than an accusation or a question, and it seemed to stop Mathius' ranting's. Jane didn't stop though; "Furthermore, you'll need to tell me where you gained access to weaponry stolen from Alliance suppliers."

"I need do nothing! When Convergence comes upon us, you'll be left to rot while-" Jane cut the man off, grabbing him by the throat before she slammed him, back first, into the side of the elevator-column. All around her, people went silent with obvious fright.

"Security!" Mathius managed to cough. It seemed to have been enough though, as five hardsuit-clad officers came running from the room next to the entrance (the security-room, obviously), armed with handguns similar to what Vincent and Pendleton had. With her left hand holding the captain in an iron grip, her right hand whipped out, energy glowing around her form as she hit the guards with a singularity. The effect was that the men were lifted into the air, then dropped, looking up, only to see Kendra aiming a handgun in their general direction. Jane huffed before turning back to Mathius. _Can't believe I'm doing this shit. At least Daniels followed suit._

* * *

When she had been called in for the briefing with Admiral Fisher, Jane hadn't been completely aware of what she could expect. The woman was the younger (though older) sister of Thomas Fisher, and rumors told of her more than insane exploits over the years. Still, she was the last person to ever fall to any sort of corruption. Jane suspected it was simply because she wasn't able to register the temptation in it.

She had found the Admiral seated with a cup of tea, conversing with another officer. At her entrance, the Admiral dismissed the man, a colonel with short-cropped dark hair, and turned her full attention towards Jane;

"Sit… or stand, I don't really care." Jane opted to stand. Anna, and she might as well think of the Admiral in first-name basis, sighed and drained her cup; "Here's the situation. About five hours ago, we intercepted a transmission from certain… elements in Sol, contacting the Planet-Cracker _MSV Ishimura_. The transmission contained orders for the ship to make for the Cygnus-system. A system that, rather funny enough, is restricted on the same level as Pandora. No one is allowed to go there. And yet, it seems that not only has someone done so, but the jackasses even set up a colony without the Alliance knowing about it. As you can guess, this isn't exactly what makes the Parliament stand in ovation. So, rather than risk the public finding out that we've bummed it, we're doing this like a black-ops. There's a small frigate, the SSV Kellion, waiting in the hangar. One of the passengers will be ASO Kendra Daniels. Far as anyone know, she's coming along with N7 Isaac Clarke to fix the ship's communications relay."

"We jammed their comms?" Jane asked, raising a brow. Fisher shook her head with a sad smile;

"No, afraid not. They seem to have fucked something up mere hours after they arrived at the planet, Aegis Seven. We don't know exactly _what_ they came there to do, but Intelligence suspects the sender of the transmission was affiliated with the Church of Uniotology. You familiar with those?" The older woman asked, flipping a bullpen between her fingers.

"Only heard mentions."

"Well, they are some sort of sect, a rather big one actually. They believe that Michael Altman, poor sod that was found dead some fifty years ago, was killed by the Alliance Parliament or EarthGov, to cover something up. EarthGov, as you might have guessed, doesn't exist anymore, so they blame the Alliance fully."

"I still don't follow, ma'am."

"Right, keep forgetting you made the same deal Thomas did… Okay, if our suspicions are correct, the Ishimura is more or less being controlled by the Church, which means, their reason to be in a restricted area must be something connected to the Church."

"What would that be?"

"Tell me, do you know what was found in the Chixculub-crater, some fifty years back?" The admiral asked, seemingly more interested in her pen than the Alliance captain in front of her.

* * *

"Listen to me, you fanatic piece of shit." She sneered in a low voice, her polarized visor allowing the man's eyes to find only blackness as she glared at him. The fact that she was in a Bulwark-suit meant that she could snap the man's neck, arm or anything else like rotten twig; "You are in _way_ over your head. Whatever's happening on this fucked up ship is connected to the Marker. Your so-called "holy relic" is a piece of fucked up Reaper-tech."

"HERETIC!" The man screamed in her face. Jane poked him in the chest, her armor causing the "poke" to be delivered with the force of a regular punch. _God, why the hell is it always fanatics? First Saren, now this guy_; "The Marker is divine! We will be carried into our new lives when Convergence is upon us, and-"

Jane clasped her armored hand over his mouth, shutting off all sounds from the struggling man. She looked around at the rest of the atrium, taking in the scared, frightened, nervous and curious faces of the crew.

"Alright, who's second in command on this floating graveyard?"

A man, most of his red hair receded to the back of his head, hesitantly stepped forward. Jane, while still holding the captain by his mouth, examined the man. Trying to gauge him.

"Dereck White, I'm the First Officer." He said in a calm tone. Jane sized him up._ Well… he doesn't seem ready to proclaim religious persecution just yet._

"Well, you're the captain now. Mathius will be placed under arrest for trespassing in restricted space, and will stand trial when we return to Alliance Space." She pointedly used "when", not "if". It was important to keep civilians in as blissful a mindset as possible, for as long as possible.

"The ship is being overrun. More than seventy percent of the crew has flat-lined." White said, his voice and expression closer to outright fear than anything else. He _knew_ that they were fucked unless something happened.

"Can the rest of the crew reach the escape-pods?" She asked, trying to imagine how many hundreds of those zombies would be roaming the halls by now. _Fuck… I hope Kaidan can hold out._

"I don't _know_. We can't make any contact anywhere on the ship at all." White exclaimed, his brows furrowed in frustration. Jane grit her teeth, but refrained from answering. A reason to this was that an alarm was going off at multiple consoles. Letting go of the struggling captain, Jane rushed to the nearest flaring console.

"Oh fuck me…" Kendra muttered from next to her. Jane hadn't even seen her move, but was far more focused on the display in front of her.

Escape-shuttles were launching.

Zero life-signs.

* * *

**Yeah...Uniotologists really got something wrong. Michael Altman was apparently immune to indoctrination, so the "Marker" made the others kill him. Who'd have seen thát coming?**

**On a second note: Writing Hillary's comments is the only thing beating writing Anna's, in my eyes. (Apparently I have a thing for more or less psychotic women... bugger)**


	12. Temple

**Yet another chapter. **

**For a change, this one doesn't happen from the viewpoint of neither Jane nor Thomas, our otherwise established centers of focus. I'm thinking each chapter covers roughly 1/3 of each in-game chapter, to offer perspective. **

**Also, you guys watched the latest "Game of Thrones"? Won't spoil, but daaaaaaaaaaaamn, brutal.**

* * *

**Temple**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Engineering Deck, tram-station

14:11

"Engineering, everyone off to make room for new passengers, and beware of pick-pockets." Hillary grinned, hoisting her new toy on in her right arm, while her rifle was held in the left. She was seriously contemplating simply putting it on her back, but until she'd seen the effectiveness of her new zombie-killer, she'd rather be safe. She was gleeful, not moronic, contrary to what some people seemed to think ('Some people' being the men of the group, oddly enough.)

Engineering was a bit less bright than the bridge, multiple lights here flickering on and off. There was a bit of blood on the floor, still wet enough to make it slippery when walking on the surface. Before anyone managed to speak, Kaidan's Omnitool chimed. Hillary liked the guy, and hadn't even wanted to prank him, despite sufficient openings for a joke, such as his butt-chin.

"_Alenko? Listen up, we've got a problem._" Jane's voice came over the channel. Hillary groaned, but it was Thomas who spoke first, though not to Jane;

"Not _another_ one?" He sounded just as deflated as Jane, though her tone held a bit of "I'm pissed off" as well. Figures, redheads always seemed the aggressive type.

"What is it, Captain?" Kaidan asked, apparently completely calm. Well good for him, that meant she could be allowed to groan in annoyance as much as she wanted to. And she did. Because problems were annoying. Especially on a Zombie-ship.

"_Every single escape-pod just launched, with no one onboard._"

"Well… that sucks." Hillary muttered. It sucked for the poor bastards still alive around the ship, and it sucked for themselves too, if they couldn't fit everyone on the Kellion. What if someone had stolen the damn thing while they were gone? Chen and Johnston seemed like twitchy-itchy types. Hillary would bet they were going to turn tail when the first zombie crawled out of a duct.

"_There's more._" Jane said. Leaning forward, Hillary could see that other woman, Kendra, standing next to the Captain, armed with a handgun._ Since when… oh right, she said something about Clarke owing her. Must've had a gun then too. Figures._

"Isn't there always?" Kaidan asked, sounding a little annoyed. (A little being far less than what Hillary was, but she wasn't going to comment on that.) The lieutenant seemed to mull things over as Jane looked off-screen for something, then back;

"_Eighty-seven percent of the crew has flat-lined. If what we fear is correct, then you're looking at nearly a thousand of those things running around on the ship._"

"Well that's just great…" Hillary muttered, then actually processed what Jane had just said; "A what? A thousa-… This is how I die…"

"Told you, we're fucked." Adrian muttered from next to her, a smug tone to his voice. Great, now there was someone making fun of _her_.

"_Nobody'_s fucked, if we just focus and keep an eye out. These things like to use the vents to sneak up, so keep an eye on whatever openings you see in walls, floors or ceilings." Vincent snapped, glaring at the two complaining marines.

As the team went through the first door they found, a narrow corridor, not broad enough for two men to walk side-by-side, turned and led them into a new room. The room itself was fairly large, about the same size as the tram-station. It was dimly illuminated, but appeared relatively safe.

At the center, a corpse was slumped in the chair meant for keeping track of passing traffic on the other side or shatterproof glass. The corpse was dressed in the same type of hardsuit worn by Vincent and Pendleton, only a darker color, as well as a mask-like helmet covering the dead man's face, but leaving ears and hair free.

"Great… more dead guys." Hillary muttered, stepping closer to the corpse. This one really seemed to be nothing but a normal, good old fashioned, dead body. There were no extra arms, no fangs, no intestines hanging from gaping hole in the stomach (although he really reeked like he'd been dead for a month already), and no evil eyes trying to glare at her from the darkness; "But, at least it's a regular dead guy."

"If they killed him, why didn't he turn?" Kaidan wondered aloud. Hillary glanced at the lieutenant for a moment, then back at the dead guard. She noticed something lying at his feet, a datapad, of all things._ Guy was reading when the walking dead jumped him? Poor bastard._

"_Personal Log, Acting Chief Engineer Jacob Temple. It's been two days since they pulled that planet open… since all those things on the colony started. The panic, the riots… They were nothing compared to what came after. Our friends, our co-workers, started coming back…Changed…Coming back to kill us, to drag us away. Rucker disappeared this morning, and I have to assume he's dead. My crew, they're starting to crack. I'm trying to keep an eye on them, but right now… fuck, we've got bigger problems. We're hemorrhaging fuel, and now the primary engine is laboring. Danvers and I are going to reach the fuel depot to try and fix it. Temple out."_

The room was silent for a moment as the audio ended, leaving more than one pair of eyes to glance at the dead body slumped in the chair. Hillary wasn't sure if a sigh of relief or a snort of annoyance would be fitting here. Okay, so the dead guy apparently wasn't this "Temple" person, since he and someone named Danvers was trying to reach the fuel depot (props the same place she'd be heading before long to fix this shit), so at least there might be someone else alive around. On the other side…she'd felt sorry for a guy she thought was someone else. _Great, lets all just confuse dead guys now, shall we?_

"If they're at the fuel depot, they won't be far from… wait, the man mentioned the colony. This is at least two days old, but…" Kaidan muttered, then turned to Vincent as she was trying to ascertain the identity of the dead guard; "Vincent, just how long has it been since the planet-crack took place?"

"About… two and a half days. But this guy looks like he'd been dead for at least a whole day." Hillary leaned in again, noticing what the Chief meant. More than a few places, the bare skin was bloated, a clear sign of necrosis and post-mortem decomposing. She wasn't very tempted at all to peek under the guy's mask.

"That long? How long ago did crew start dying?" She asked, looking up from the dead guy. Vincent furrowed her brow, as if she was considering something important.

"First confirmed death was… Nurse Higgins, I think. One of the patients from the colony, Harris, killed her before he was restrained. Doctor Mercer wanted to examine him for… shit, I don't know." The chief shook her head.

"Regardless, we need to get the engines back up, and if we're lucky, we'll find Temple on the way." Hillary cringed slightly at the spoken "if", but refrained from speaking. If she was going to do something un-soldierly, she might as well save it for when she could tease Thomas. Still, she didn't really mind him all that much. _Guy did save my life, so…_

Vincent raised her hand, some sort of light flickering to life in it, and her Omnitool displayed a map not unlike what Jane had showcased at the briefing. The Chief only looked at the map for a few seconds, before it was turned off again. Without a word, Vincent took the lead towards a door to the right. _Yep, and now the mangy, angry chief of police gives us the silent treatment._

Hillary gave her Ripper a test-spin, just to be safe, as Vincent palmed the interface for a door with "Machine shop" digitally portrayed above it. The open door revealed a ramp going straight downwards, into a much less bright (and significantly much more creepier) part of the ship.

Down below, corpses were strewn about, human and a few zombies alike. The humans lacked arms, legs and even heads, while the closest dead zombie was sprawled on its back near a broken-open gate, limbs bent awkwardly to the sides. The floor was slick with blood as the team stopped, frozen at the sound of something moving in the closest room. Considering the situation, Hillary barely even bothered lifting an eyebrow at the (far too cliché and expected) slowly rolling canister coming into view. She looked back to where Kaidan was standing.

"Vincent, Thomas, check it out." The lieutenant whispered, gesturing into the room where a few suits were visible, hanging from notches on the wall. The marine and the guard nodded, no words spoken as one held the plasma saw, the other fire, and entered the room.

While the pair checked the room in silence, the rest of the team remained just outside, weapons pointed in all directions as they waited for the all clear. Hillary glanced at the dead zombie, eyeing a chance at seeing how effective her new toy was. _Let's see if… maybe I could saw off the legs…_

She pointed the Ripper at the zombie, resting the single laser-dot on the thing's legs, and pulled the trigger. There was a fair bit of recoil as the blade was launched. Then there was horrible roaring and screaming as the zombie, now missing both its legs, tried leaping at the group. It ended up falling flat forward, starting to haul itself forward instead.

"Fucking A!" Hillary shouted, even as guns and biotics flared towards the zombie. She (despite being just as surprised at the rest, and a little shocked as well) kept pressing the trigger as the blade sliced through the dead-yet-moving body, spilling intestines, arms, bones and blood on the floor until the thing simply dropped dead again. As the room fell silent again, she gently patted her Ripper; "Down, girl"

"Well… okay, lesson learned. Don't trust them to be dead unless they miss every single limb." Chief Ashley (and she would always be Chief Ashley, because she was a hardass, badass commanding officer) said, lowering her weapon. Hillary noted with no small amount of pride and glee, that just about no one had managed to shoot before she had ripped the fucker a new one. _Yeah, I'm thát good._

The group, now wary of supposedly sneaky undead, proceeded through what seemed like a workshop, complete with a large contraption labelled "Bench" with large neon-letters just above a sign warning people to watch their fingers, complete with a grizzly picture and everything. There were also a lot more corpses, as well as another one of the Engineer Temple's audio logs. Hillary shuddered, hearing the meaty sounds of a man pulling his own teeth out before being knocked unconscious by a door.

"Just what the fuck is happening on this ship? I mean, okay, so the dead are coming back, mutated. Seen that before, I have. But what the fuck is up with the living ones?" No one had an answer, leaving her to mutter and curse under her breath as they entered a much bigger room.

"Okay… heights and darkness. Just who the fuck designed this ship?" Thomas cursed, tapping a foot against the floor. The solid ground was gone, replaced by a catwalk that (at least to Hillary) seemed sturdy enough. The sound, was what got to her, not the view. The constant noise, grinding machines, metal stretching, something or someone stomping around, knocking shit over.

Whatever answer someone would have given him was cut short, as the sound of something scuttling along the floor alerted the group. Weapons up and searching, it was Hammond who saw the source first;

"Son of a bitch…" The man growled. Following his eyes, Hillary saw another one of the crawlers (because they crawled instead of running, so "crawler" it was) scurrying along on the underside of the catwalk, paying little attention to the group of armed humans, aside from a brief stop that lasted for about as long as it took to sneer, then scurried on.

"Is it just me, or are the monsters kinda wary of us now?" Clarke asked, rifle held to his shoulder as he followed where the creepy zombie had gone. As the team passed by a locker labelled "emergency supplies", Hillary opened it, curious as she was despite the situation.

"Fuck me sideways." She muttered, grinning behind her helmet. Aside from a small canister of Medigel, there was a shredder-module, lying nice and politely in the locker. If given the chance, maybe she could find a way to smack it on her rifle. Shredders did a lot more internal damage than usual, so it'd be kinda stupid to just leave it. _Also, it says "emergency". I think a ship-wide zombie-attack warrants "emergency"…_

"You said something?" Thomas asked as he walked by her, likely trying to discern what she had grabbed thís time. Guy really was a bit too uptight about the law and all that. Still, he'd saved her life on Eden Prime, so while she'd tease him at every given chance, lying wasn't something she did. At least, not very often.

"Mmm. Found some Medigel and a shredder-module." She said, holding up the small part for a weapon; "S' the same thing as on your Carnifex, just for rifles… I think. Need a workbench and less dead guys around to fit it."

Apparently, honesty from her side took him a little aback, as it was a whole second before he answered. A long-ass second where the rest of the team slowly proceeded, though Ashley glanced back at the two of them._ Worry not, Chief oh mine. Thy boyfriend I shall keepeth safe… or something like that. _

"Huh." Granted, while Thomas was a good guy, it wasn't always the brightest light bulb shining between his ears. Instead of trying to respond to a one-word sentence, she stuffed the module in a pouch on her belt, hefted the Ripper back up and jogged to keep up with the rest of the group. Turning right, she and Thomas had just caught sight of the team again, standing by a small holographic display, where Kaidan was pulling something downwards, she couldn't see what.

Just as she was ahead of the Chief, about to turn left by the safety rails, a vent broke above her, followed by an angry snarl even before she felt the kick of a human-ish body impact her own.

"FUCK!" The impact was somewhat lessened by the fact that the attacker had misjudged the jump, and one mutated foot hit the rails instead of her, resulting in an organic blade piercing the catwalk instead of her midsection. Even as she tried yanking the Ripper (inert, thank God) from beneath her, the Necro (and it was a rather fitting name), had yanked its blade free and was swinging it at her face; "Oh shit…"

The Necro's head, and most of its upper body, suddenly took a flight backwards, as a shotgun was pressed into its face and a trigger was pulled. The shot was followed up with a blast of fire hitting the remaining (stumbling like a fucking drunkard) torso, sending it after its head and shoulders, tumbling into the darkness below.

"You okay?" She was pulled to her feet again, her shoulders sore from the fall. Thomas had saved her life. Again. And people were nearby. And they'd seen it. _And there went my excuses for teasing the bastard… He'll never let me live this down._

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. I could have taken that one out too, you know." She bit her lip beneath the helmet, grateful that no one could see. Stupid Thomas with his stupid firebending, saving her stupid butt. She could save her own butt, thank you very much.

"I know. Just didn't want you to get too far ahead." Thomas said, an obvious attempt at a joke. A joke. He'd been scared piss-less when he'd seen the Necro's the first time, and now the sunovabitch was making jokes. _He's spent way too much time around Jeff._

"Are you okay down there?" Ashley called, the concern easy to hear. She'd always been like that, sort of the admonishing and berating, but caring, mother of Dog Squad. Donkey had sort of been the dad, even if the Chief never fell for his obvious attempts at charming her panties off.

"We're fine. One of them jumped us, but nothing happened." Thomas called back. Hillary found herself a little grateful that he hadn't mentioned _who_ had gotten jumped. _Fuck, I'm going to end up liking this guy, aren't I? _

"Good. Okay, there's another one of these stations on the other side of the ravine." Isaac said, pointing at a lift hanging from a set of rails, just ahead of the two marines; "Problem is, it's only big enough for three people, four if you really squeeze it."

"What's the stations for?" Thomas asked.

"Each one controls the change of fuel-tanks. Seeing as nothing has happened yet, and the power is still flowing, I'm guessing Temple's team never made it to that point." Clarke didn't say it, but Hillary could hear what was left unsaid in his voice. Temple's team hadn't made it. They'd probably been some of the Necro's she'd been shooting at already. Fucking fantastic.

"Thomas. You, Pennyloafer and Clarke take the lift across. The rest of us hold here till you get back. The ravine is narrow enough that we can provide some fire-support across it." Kaidan called down from the raised station, his flashlight illuminating where they needed to go. Short or not, that was an awfully long way away from the others. _Great, fucking fantastic. Divide and conquer, and we're doing the dead bastards' job for them, splitting up like this._

Clarke, being the biotic left the station to head for them. As he was somewhere midway, the sound of a vent breaking and a Necro roaring in hunger and rage joined in with the belching fire of a rifle. Then, all was silent.

"Clarke!" Someone from the station yelled (it was fucking hard hearing who with those helmets), though no one moved.

"It's okay. They really need to stop roaring _before_ attacking." The N7 huffed as he came into view, fresh blood spattered across his armor; "_Completely_ gives them away."

Isaac Clarke, Hillary thought, had to be the single most insane man on the face of the galaxy, (if that was even a real wording, she didn't care). Sure, she herself wasn't _panicking _when the dead attacked, but Clarke seemed to actually find it entertaining. _Sick sunovabitch…still, it's nice to see skills following bravado._

"You actually _enjoy_ them?" Thomas exclaimed, aghast. Hillary held her tongue, since Thomas had just spoken her mind for her, (and wasn't that just odd?) so she instead opted to give the Ripper a test-spin.

"Enjoy? Kid, they are the living dead, mutated corpses of murdered innocents. I'd have to be sick in the head to enjoy any of this." The N7 sounded honestly dumbfounded at the question. As if he hadn't even considered it himself.

"Right, I didn't mean… you just sound so fucking calm about it." Thomas shot back, technically at least the same _rank_ as Clarke (though even Hillary knew N7's usually carried the authority of a lieutenant, regardless of actual rank). They were just thát badass. _And in Clarke's case, thát mental._

"Experience, Chief. Experience and more gruesome fights than you would bother counting." Clarke replied, huffing as he dragged the tram towards them with a biotic pull. As it came closer, it became clear that they might have to dump some… cargo.

A corpse, clad in the same uniform as the security-officer back at the security-station, was sprawled on what little space the tram offered. Hillary stepped on as the first, offering the corpse an apologetic nod before she heaved him (and he really looked quite young, maybe even younger than her) over the rails and into the darkness below. _This is so fucked up… I should be dumping dead Reaper-troops or Batarians into a pit, not my own species. _

She suppressed a wince when, in the silent room, the meaty _thwack_ of the corpse hitting the ground below could be heard for a single, painful instant._ Fuck… I didn't train for pulling around dead humans. I trained to handle dead aliens and shit, not…Fuck, just keep your game-face on._

The Ripper in her hands somehow was a soothing factor in the situation, even as she refrained from cradling it around Thomas. There was no way _he_ was going to see_ her_ weak. He was the one with all the emotions running around, falling in love with _her_ Chief. _Fuck, why am I thinking about- get it together. Jeff's just going to laugh his crippled ass off if he saw me like this._

She still had breaking his arm on her 'to-do' list. The idiot had been the cause for Shepard's death because he hadn't managed to pull his fingers from his butthole and get into an escape-pod. Fucking idiot.

"Weapons up, we've got a reception." Clarke's voice broke through her thoughts, causing her to snap from the floor to their destination. At least five of the Necrotic asshats were running around, flailing blades, roaring like monsters, and generally just being complete dicks to her mental health.

"I guess that means Temple's team's part of 'em?" She didn't even wait for an answer, instead spinning up her Ripper. For something meant as a mining tool, the thing was remarkably efficient at killing the undead.

"Fisher, I'll hit them with a stasis, then you and Pennyloafer reduce them to Shish Kebab. Got it?" Clarke said in a low voice, enough that the team on the station wouldn't be able to hear him.

"Got it. You up for it, Hillary?" the Chief asked, nodding as he glanced at her. Hillary patted the Ripper, grinning behind her helmet;

"Ask and thou shall receive an asskicking" At her nod, Clarke hit the assembled Necro's with a stasis-field wide enough to trap the whole group in the gravimetric prison. As the tram came within two meters of the slowed-down monsters, Hillary grinned darkly behind her helmet; "Rip 'em a whole lotta new assholes!"

At the same time as her weapon shot out the first blade, Thomas unleashed blasts of emerald flame from his hands, each punch washing over the undead crew with burning punishment (and wasn't thát a delicious wording?). The result was the chewing and slicing of steel through dead flesh, followed by killing everything with fire. _Fuck that, 'Kill it with fire!' so much needs to be on his armor. I wonder if I can get something to stitch it on his uniform while he's slee… that'd mean seeing Chief Ashley naked. No thank you._

Still, the notion of inscribing the phrase on the Chief's armor was still valid and (in her eyes) a good way to shake him from his constant 'follow the rules, be boring' stupor. Fuck it. For now, she was doing just as much killing, even if she lost two blades when Thomas "accidentally" melted them. Fucker.

"Clear." Clarke called as the last Necro pretty much crawled in on itself to escape the clinging fire (seriously, what was Thomas spraying them with, napalm?), and the tram made it the last bit of distance towards the other side; "Alright. Keep your guards up and cover each other. When we get to the station, I'll finish the refueling while you make sure not to die horribly."

"Yeah well, same to you, old man." Hillary shot back, stomping down on the burnt remains of a skull, splintering it and sending fragments and fangs in every direction. Isaac sputtered behind her, causing her to grin like a complete goof. _Thank God for the helmet._

"I'm only thirty-nine!"

"Damn, thát old? I thought it was somewhere near thirty or twenty-nine." Oh, but she enjoyed unnerving men, whether it be her vocabulary or her blunt inquiries, or simply tha casual insults (those were the funniest)

"Shut up…" The N7 muttered. Hillary's grin only spread as she heard Thomas choke on his own amusement. _Achievement unlocked: Make Mister Thomas Hotman laugh on a zombie-ship. Yep, now I just need to make Alenko blush and I'll have the whole set._

Still, that could wait. Which she didn't really mind, as they traversed the stairs and ramps towards the last station.

"I still don't get it. What even started this whole-" Thomas started, walking next to her. She was only just turning around when something flung itself through the air, impacting on the Chief's back with a meaty _thwack_ and a high-pitched scream, throwing the man to the ground. Almost instantly, he started simmering green, though the mutated (and fucking hell it really was) baby on his back only seemed to grow ever more pissed at getting its hands and feet burnt.

Snapping to action, Clarke levelled his rifle straight at the undead infant, pulled the trigger and unleashed the underslung shotgun straight into its dead face. It didn't kill it, merely threw it straight off Thomas's back, leaving a quad of singed claw prints on his armor. Hillary snapped around as another high-pitched scream joined in as well as a gurgling roar, signaling not one, but two new arrivals, just as Thomas reenacted the age-old tradition of kicking a midget, sending the now-dead baby flying into the nearest wall with a fresh and meaty _thwack_ that sounded a lot like snapping bones. Well fuck, it was dead and that was it.

"One for each, Chief. Want me to take the undead diaper-stain?" She asked. It was because she found it curious as to the appearance of babies on the ship, but also (and fuck those who claimed this, she'd deny it) because she wanted to spare Thomas from having to kill what he might still see as a baby.

Didn't really matter in the end, as the baby flung itself straight at her, a trio of barbed tendrils shooting from its back. _I've seen enough Hentai to know where this is going._

Recoiling slightly as the undead toddler hit her face-on, she was greeted by the high-pitched scream, only now up and close, and much more annoying than before, as it clung to her helmet (also it seemed the undead didn't bother removing genitals. Who'd have thought?)

From what she could hear (since her vision was sorta obstructed) Clarke had visitors too, namely one of the Crawlers. Fuck it, she could keep playing Hug's-a-lot with this thing. Forcing a hand between the belly and her visor, she pushed the screaming baby-Necro from her face and threw it away. It hit the ground hard enough to kill a regular infant, then leapt right at her again. This time, instead of landing on her helmet, it landed on the spinning blade of her Ripper. The blade sawed through the dead body like through so much plywood, showering Hillary and her immediate surroundings with gore, blood and fragments.

As the dead body dropped to the ground, Hillary looked around to take in the situation. Thomas had of course disposed of his opponent, plus two more that had dropped in without her seeing them (not her fault, taking a baby-Necro to the face kinda made it hard to see), and Clarke was in the process of, very brutally, tearing the tail off the (now one-armed) Crawler, before stomping its head in.

"Well… that was fun." Due to the adrenaline running in her veins, she wasn't entirely sure if it had been one of the men or herself speaking, but she agreed somewhat to the sentiment. Especially because seeing Thomas brushing one of the tendrils from his shoulder was grin inducing.

"Anyone wounded?" Clarke asked, checking where one of the Crawler's claws had apparently gotten stuck in his shoulder. At the comforting 'no's, they made it the final bit to the station, where Clarke pulled the lever. Hillary was almost disappointed that nothing happened at that (well, except for the whole 'fuel' thing. Thát worked), but decided not to voice her annoyance. Just because something was terribly anticlimactic didn't mean it was bad.

It was a little unnerving though, as the entire trip back went without a single mishap, (except for when Thomas shot her an obvious stink-eye for taking credits from a locker) and they made it back to the rest of the group.

"Alright, what's next?" Thomas asked, relaxing his grip on his shotgun. Vincent was the one to pull up the map of the deck.

"We need to get the engines back online, or we're going to hit the planet. Found another one of Temple's logs. Apparently, he suspected someone of sabotaging the systems." The Chief said, apparently remembering something uncomfortable (because what could _possibly_ be uncomfortable on a zombie-ship?).

"Great, now humans are fucking us over too?" Pendleton exclaimed, angry with no one in particular apparently.

"Humans always fuck each other over. Nothing stops thát, not a park full of dinosaurs, not an alien invasion and certainly not a ship full of zombies." Hillary drawled, unable to resist taking advantage of the obvious naivety needed to be surprised at humans doing some of the backstabbing too. She just couldn't see the "why" of the scenario.

Instead of taking the longer route back, the team followed what seemed to be shortcut to the engine-room. The route led them to end up on the outside of the security-station where they'd found the dead body in his chair. What they saw, made Hillary _cringe_.

A new creature, _definitely_ not resembling a human, was flapping through the air towards the dead guard, behaving like some form of fucked-up bird.

"The hell is…" She started, but trailed off as bile caught in her throat. The bird-thing grabbed a hold of the dead guard, and then _fucking speared_ his head with a long tendril coming straight from its own mouth, allthewhile it flapped and remained in the air, pumping some sort of liquid into the dead man's head. Grime and blood stood in a fountain from the mask, as fangs broke through from the inside. The uniform was torn and shredded, and the skin turned black faster than the eyes of the team believed.

The flapping creature then released the corpse, which began roaring and stumbling, shedding the finals remains of its humanity before taking off at a sprint towards the closest vent, shattering the fan blade in the process. And it was gone.

A storm of emotions and disbelief must have flooded the mind of every member of the team, though it ended up summarized when Nicolai opened his mouth;

"What… the _fuck_."

Hillary found that statement very fitting. 'What the fuck' indeed.


	13. Gravity

**Next chapter, gents**

**Also, just passed scriptual finals! Now I'm down to the last verbal test, and then it's off to bloody ride around in a truck with silly flags and drink and drink and... you get the point (though I'm rather bad at drinking. My metabolism is backwards. I get one bear= drunk. Ten minutes later, when others start feeling tipsy, I'm fresh once more. Repeat for profit)**

**Ah well, time for some undead slaying. **

**Kindly remember to review, even if you do not enjoy Dead Space as a game for itself. I find it merges well with Mass Effect.**

* * *

**Gravity**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Engineering Deck, Control station

16:29

"Okay… anyone feel like hanging around for Flappy-bird to come back?" Hillary asked, casting an obviously nervous glance around the room. The team had entered, nervous for the reappearance of the zombifier. To add to their troubles, Jane and Kendra had just called in. Apparently, and this was just another notch to the migraine building in Thomas' cranium, something called the "gravity-centrifuge" had gone offline, meaning that the small mountain hanging from the ship was going to drag them towards the planet again.

(Because apparently it had been a good idea to remain in orbit over the fucking planet that was going crazy below them).

"Not really, no." Tequila muttered, palming the interface for the elevator; "Alright, so we need the gravity-centrifuge back on?"

"Yes. We're going to find out if they even still work, since with our luck they probably don't." Kaidan sighed, entering the elevator, shotgun pointed upwards to seek out anything that might hide in the corners, waiting to snap a meal. Thomas was next in, standing as far to the side as he could to make room; "Going to have a space-issue though."

"No props. The rest of us will wait till the elevator comes back down." Nicolai said, hefting his massive gun to the floor, using the stock as support; "Or, we could get the engines back on while you take care of the centrifuge-thing." He said, glancing around; "We _are_ enough for two large teams."

"I don't believe it. A suicide-plan, from you, Nicolai?" Tequila chuckled, shaking her head. Kaidan seemed to be in thoughts at the idea, looking at the people around him.

They were still twelve people, so two six-man teams shouldn't be in all thát much risk of being overrun, Thomas figured. Though that could mean either him or Tequila getting swapped to the other team, _if_ Kaidan even saw the outcome overcoming the risks of it. Twelve people _did_ present a lot more firepower than six. Still, there wasn't really a chance Kaidan was going to split them…

"We'll do it." _Well… so much for thát pinch of optimism_; "Boss, you take charge of your team, same as before. Clarke, with him. Hillary, Ashley and Thomas with me to the centrifuge. Meet back here in one hour. Anything more and assume something went wrong."

"Yes sir!" Boss replied, rallying the team under him. Thomas could imagine it annoyed Clarke a little, taking orders from a sergeant when he himself was an N7. Then again, Boss knew the team better than Clarke, with the exception of Pendleton and Vincent. Seeing how Thomas in theory held more firepower than Tequila, the security-officers were sent with Boss.

"Well… this brings back memories." Thomas mused, standing close-packed with the others in the lift. Kaidan 'hmmm'ed, while Hillary snorted in small laugh. Ashley just shook her head at his antics, probably remembering quite a few similar trips up and down the Citadel's elevators as well. (He wondered if they could still do that, now with humanity detracted from the Citadel species and all)

"No shit. Hope the Citadel didn't get a case of space-zombies in the meantime." The private mused right back at him.

"It did. We killed a whole lot of them, remember?"

"Oh right… the Husks. Huh…"

"What?" Thomas asked, tilting his head in question. He'd seen Boss and Scorch do it so often, it had somehow spread to him as well.

"Have to wonder if these fuckers are some sort of Husks. I mean, they do fill the same roles… new strategy from the Reapers, you think?" Hillary huffed, checking her Ripper as she leant against the wall.

"God, I hope not. That'd mean this was all… all this was planned by someone, or _something_. Can you even call a thing like Sovereign for _someone_?" Ashley said in a low voice. Thomas found himself wishing Roku was there with them, but the mechanical spirit-bastard had apparently seen fit to leave without telling anyone,_ again_. It really was annoying. And weird, he didn't usually dump the team like that.

"Dunno. Depends on what Sovereign even _was_." Kaidan mulled, taking a hand to the chin of his helmet out of simple habit; "I mean, was it a machine, or something like Roku?"

Suddenly, the eyes of every person in the elevator was on Thomas, who shifted uncomfortably in reaction. Roku had said Nazara was something akin to a fallen god, right? That'd mean Sovereign wasn't as much a machine as it was a machine-body hosting a god (Because a god of Destruction and death in itself wasn't evil enough. Oh no, gotta add the tentacles and red lasers, just to make sure people knew it was _evil_)

"More like Roku, I think." He shrugged, breathing a sigh of both relief and trepidation as the lift's doors opened, revealing a short hallway leading to a chamber meant for decontamination. The room was so far the nicest looking room on the entire ship. How ironic that the decontamination-chamber on a zombie-ship would be the sole place left untouched. The area around the entrance to the room was stacked with open lockers.

He didn't even blink as Hillary started for the closest one.

"Only way is through the decon-chamber. Shouldn't be much of a problem, but keep your guards up nonetheless." Thomas winced as Kaidan once again used the deadly words that heralded doom.

"Famous last words much?" Hillary seemed to have the same idea about the lieutenant's choice of words. Didn't mean she stopped looting peoples' belongings while she spoke though. Also didn't stop her from eyeing the "bench" at the wall; "Hey guys, can we take five? Need to check this thing out."

"Five minutes break." Kaidan agreed, though he remained on guard, shotgun aimed at whatever points of entrance he could find nearby. Hillary did what Thomas was tempted to call a fistpump in the air, then set to work at figuring out the bench. Ashley, meanwhile, leant against the locker next to him, giving off a deep, drawn-out sigh.

"I hate this ship." She muttered under her breath. Thomas leant next to her, intertwining his hand with hers. It was a small measure of solace in this place, but he would take it over anything else the infested ship could offer; "How're you holding up?"

"It's fine." Thomas shrugged, resting his head on the locker behind him. Ashley gave his hand a squeeze just hard enough that it carried the message 'don't bullshit me' clear across; "I… I don't really know." He admitted sheepishly. It sometime bothered him that she could see straight through him, even with a helmet on. Still, it spared him a few awkward situations along the way.

"Scared?" Ashley asked in a low voice, relaxing her grip on his fingers. Thomas hesitated, not knowing fully what to say. Was he scared? Yes. He was. But, it wasn't as much a personal fear as it was the fear of what he might lose. _He_ had protection. But what if he slipped up? What if he let one of them past him, right at Ashley? She didn't have protection. There wouldn't be any unnatural fire protecting _her_.

The mere thought made him cringe.

"In… Yeah, I…Not, not for myself. I'm not scared for myself." Thomas managed to breathe out, though the words stung his heart each time he even considered what he feared. He knew, _knew_, that the life they lived, it was dangerous. There would always be the risk of thát one stray bullet, slug or bolt of plasma, waiting for them.

"For me." It wasn't a question as much as it for a statement of what she probably knew to be true already. What he'd felt since before Feros. He had long-since stopped fearing for his own life as the priority, and not just because Roku seemed to hold his hands over him, but because there was someone more important than his own life.

"…Yes." He breathed, feeling his throat tighten a little.

"Don't. I know what you're thinking. If you slip up, or somehow I get injured, you'll blame yourself for it." Her voice was gentle, but held the same hardness she had displayed when he told her of his guilt, of how he felt it was on him that people had died. He still felt like that, but… not so much as before.

"Break's over people" Kaidan announced before Thomas could say anything. At the same time, Hillary emerged victorious from the bench, hoisting her Lancer with a new shredder-module on its muzzle. Thomas ignored her claims of it now being an automatic shotgun, instead trying to figure out his own mind, and more importantly, how Ashley always read him so easily; "When we get to the Centrifuge, we're setting up a link with the bridge, see if Daniels or one of the bridge-crew can guide us through it."

"Right… let's go kick some undead balls." Hillary was the first through the door to the decon-chamber, palming the interface for the activation-sequence the moment Thomas stepped in as the last. For some reason, it had been designed so that the decontamination went on in darkness, with alarm-claxons and yellow lights for no apparent reason.

"_Quarantine lockdown enacted. Hostile life forms detected."_

A vent broke in the ceiling, making Thomas reconsider his thoughts about needless alarms;

"It's in here with us!" He yelled, his helmet automatically adjusting to the new lighting, if slowly. There was movement to his left, something stalking towards them from the opposite corner. As his helmet adjusted, he could see the creature stalking towards them, making as little sound as a dead thing possibly could when about to kill.

Kaidan had seen it too, apparently, and smeared most of it on the wall with a powerful throw of biotic energy, leaving the legs to stumble about before falling to the ground.

"_Quarantine lifted. Thank you for your patience" _The same feminine VI said, turning the lights back on. Thomas glanced at the very much dead zombie, and blew a breath of relief, as well as some puzzlement;

"Well… that was sure as hell anticlimactic." He muttered, still feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

"Let's just get a move on, alright?" Kaidan said, leading them out of the room, though he took effort to _not_ step in the liquefied remains of the undead attacker. No one spoke a word, except for the mandatory snort of amusement from Hillary as she walked out of the room last, holding her small arsenal of manslaughter ready. In her right hand, a Ripper capable of carving through solid rock, as well as shoot out hovering blades. And in her left hand, the Lancer-II, complete with underslung shotgun and a shredder-module affixed to the muzzle of the rifle itself.

Having cleared a long, empty hallway, the team stopped before a large, round door with the letters "Gravity-centrifuge" rolling in digital above it. Amazing how systems constantly broke down and people died, but labels and signs seemed to work flawlessly. Really was a wonder.

"So, we go in?" Thomas asked, reading a red label at the side of the door. It warned them that the room was without gravity, of all things. _Makes sense, I guess. Gravity's gotta be involved with something called the 'Gravity-centrifuge'._

"Anyone here unfamiliar with working in zero-G?" Kaidan asked, looking around at them. Thomas huffed, annoyed that this was something even Hillary surpassed him in. Then again, she surpassed him in a lot of ways. Sighing, he raised his hand like an embarrassed school-kid, waiting for the teacher to take note of him; "Right. Okay, Thomas. You just need to remember not to focus on one single surface as the "right" one, but simply as every surface being viable."

"Also don't fart. It hurts like hell, just so you know." Hillary said, sounding ever so amused with his discomfort, or impending discomfort, to be accurate.

"Thanks…" He muttered dryly as the door hissed open, revealing a thin, mist-like field separating them from the lacking gravity of the _enormous_ room beyond. Thomas stepped through first, feeling his boots automatically magnetize and secure him to the catwalk; "Well… fuck."

Aside from the expected debris floating through the air, there were also a fair amount of corpses. The dead sailed through the air in slow, graceful curves, gently bumping off when they hit a solid surface. Aside from the mandatory presence of dead bodies, a few explosive canisters were floating around as well, though Thomas had no idea why there would be explosive canisters of gasoline and kerosene there in the first place.

"Alright. Follow my lead, we're getting the dynamos reconnected to the main turbine." Kaidan ordered, then pushed off from the catwalk. He sailed through the air, gracefully like a swan before he hit the ceiling. Ashley was next, then Hillary and Thomas as the last man. He hated this feeling already, the feeling of weighing absolutely nothing. His arms and hands felt like moving them around in something thinner than air, and he couldn't discern at first whether he was moving them up or down.

"Come on, Chief. Just pretend you're a pretty bird, flap your arms and shit." Hillary called down, or up, or… fuck it. He pushed off, holding his breath in fright as the ground removed itself below him, and he sailed through the air with what he saw as far, far too much speed.

When he hit the ceiling, it was remarkably less graceful than the others, and he ended up skidding along it before a boot connected with the surface, and jolted him to a stop. Swallowing his bile (and the fucking strain in his leg, because that had hurt like the Seven Hells), he planted the other foot on the ceiling and forced himself to stand down… up, head downwards or…_This is going to take some getting used to…_

"See, that wasn't so hard."

"Don't tease him, Hill."

"I'm just offering moral support."

"And I really am thankful…" Thomas growled, flailing his arms to gain a better balance; "But I think I can do without your moral support, unless those include an anti-migraine-pill."

"Anti-Migraine pill?" There was a definite amused smirk in Ashley's voice as she held him steady. Thomas grumbled and looked at his feet;

"I've no idea what it's called in English, okay?"

"Thought your translator would pick it up?" Ashley asked, probably wondering what the problem was. Thomas could feel his cheeks redden in slight shame;

"I… don't know what it's called in Danish either." To which Ashley blew a light chuckle, tapping him on the helmet;

"Sometimes, Thomas, I really wonder."

"As long as you don't start making out here and now, Chief's. We sorta have a mission." Hillary snickered, pushing off from the ceiling to follow Kaidan towards the floor.

"She's such a child. Still, I'm glad you have your oddities." Ashley said, offering his hand a brief, tight squeeze before pushing off towards the floor herself. Thomas found himself looking at her butt as she sailed away, then sighed and adjusted his footing for a better take-off.

He just wasn't allowed to, as what Hillary had dubbed a "Crawler" suddenly came sailing through the air, landing before him on the ceiling, where it of course offered a bone-chilling howl.

"Thomas!" Ashley yelled from below, already preparing to take off to help him.

"It's okay, just finish the job down there." He called back down, though his eyes remained locked on the creature before him; "You really are one ugly fuck, aren't you?"

Apparently, the creature didn't like being insulted, as it leapt for him the moment he finished speaking. It was a lot faster than he'd have thought, and it was capable of crawling around on the ceiling without any kind of magnetic boots.

Kinda badass, now that he thought about it. Badass, but still really creepy.

Sidestepping as big a distance as he could cover without having to risk jumping, Thomas dodged the zombie as it continued its flight, passing him with an angry howl before it landed some five meters away, instantly snapping about. Bracing himself for another attack, Thomas went into the same stance Roku always used when he came flying at the geth. It was frustratingly difficult to do while standing heads-down though.

When the thing jumped him again, seemingly unable to comprehend the risks, he snapped his bionic hand out, grabbed the thing by its mutated throat (and gods above it was ugly up close. The lower face was completely gone, with something like long fangs or tusks protruding from the neck, while fangs jutted out from the upper jaw, trying to bite his left hand off. It seemed completely unaware of the fire in his right hand, up until the point where the burning, clenched fist punched through its skull, continued through the upper spine and tore through an arm before the bionic fist tore the other off and threw it to the side.

Left with only the grotesque tail, the creature went dead.

Gunfire from below alerted him to the presence of more creatures. Looking down, he saw Hillary and Ashley work to keep the undead off Kaidan. The lieutenant worked his biotics on the massive generator, slowing the rotating beam down, while dragging the entire machine towards where it would connect with the main turbine. Pushing off from the ceiling, Thomas went to join them.

This time at least, he managed to soften his impact by crouching as he landed, though he was swiftly hit in the back with something hard and heavy, propelling him forward in a staggering run against the wall. Right behind him, one of the monsters howled, but the howl was suddenly replaced with the sound of a chainsaw-blade slicing through meat and bone._ Yeah well, I saved her life, she saves mine… sorta._

"God, I love this weapon!" He both heard and saw Hillary exclaim, before levelling her Lancer at the closest undead, the slugs spewing from her shredder-module ripping through the necrotic flesh almost as fast as normal slugs into a soldier who actually cared about being shot.

"And the first generator is in. Thomas, get to the controls and be ready to activate when I give the order. Hopefully we can avoid more trouble if we get this done fast." Kaidan said, not waiting for Thomas to reply before pushing off towards a wall, then used thát wall to push off again, landing him solidly on the opposite side of the room faster than Thomas bothered even trying to copy.

"Right, yes sir." He muttered, pushing off against the floor while the women went with Kaidan (if it hadn't been so seriously horrifying a situation, Thomas might have made a joke about it) and gritted his teeth as he braced for impact.

This time went a little better though. 'A little better' was a nicer way to consider what most would call 'hitting the wall but without bouncing off'. In any case, his magnetic soles locked on to the wall, allowing him to walk the last bit down towards the catwalk. Meanwhile, the trio on the other side of the room repeated their former success, this time with only a single crawler leaping at them. Thomas rested against the wall, waiting for Kaidan and the others to make their way to him, jumping around the room like a bunch of monkeys. He did keep the last thought to himself though.

"Hit the gravity. Oh and, seal your armor, we're about to go into a vacuum." It was almost funny how Kaidan seemed to only add the last part as a quick thought, if it hadn't been because Thomas would have suffocated without knowing to seal up. _Bloody Canadian… _

Still, he obliged and activated the centrifuge, tapping the command for his armor to rely on its own air-supply for the next ten minutes. Should be more than enough, considering it wasn't like he was going into outer space for a longer grabble with… with…

There was some sort of block, like a mist where his mind should have been able to call up previous experience as a reference. Like not being able to remember a dream. _Gods, I hate amnesia._

Before anyone could speak, and while he was silently watching the counter on his HUD counting down from nine minutes and forty-seven seconds, their comms buzzed.

"_You're doing great, guys."_ It was Jane. She didn't sound particularly cheerful though; _"The centrifuge is online and Boss' team has already started up the engines. They lost Hammond, though…"_

"Shit…Fuck, fuckity fuck." Hillary cursed, clenching her fist. Thomas pressed his eyes shut and found himself remembering what little interaction he had had with the man. There wasn't much, but he had found Hammond to be a decent person, if more brawns than brains, disrespectful as the thought probably was. He hoped whatever god or gods Hammond believed in would watch over the man… but refrained from voicing the thought.

"_The team lost him when they got swarmed after turning on the engines. There was no way to recover his body."_ What everyone knew now, was that thát meant they'd likely be facing the undead version at some point, just to turn the knife in the open wound;_ "Also, there's been a… development."_

"Captain?" Kaidan asked as the team made their way back to the entrance. Unfortunately, that meant carefully timed sprints between each passing of the monstrous centrifuge-arm. Thomas really rather would not consider what would happen if someone was hit with that thing.

"_I couldn't reveal this earlier, with the risk of either Vincent or Pendleton listening in, but it's time you knew the secondary goal for this mission."_ There was a hint of regret in her voice, something Thomas definitely didn't find soothing.

"…Exactly what's going on?" Ashley asked after some hesitation. Thomas knew she'd never really completely stopped mistrusting Jane, and if the Captain was holding out on them, that'd just worsen the relationship between them.

"_Admiral Fisher tasked me with arresting Captain Benjamin Mathius for illegal transgressions into quarantined territory. There was a possibility Mathius would have found something… he wasn't supposed to find, and especially not bring home."_

"Wait, you saying these Necro's are caused by that bastard?" Hillary exclaimed, drawing a frustrated sigh from the entire team.

"Don't be stupid, Hillary." Thomas snapped, more than a little annoyed that she'd start accusing the Ishimura's captain of cooking up the undead in his backyard.

"_Actually, she isn't thát far of the mark."_ Jane said, causing an inappropriate amount of chills to run down Thomas' spine; _"A hundred years ago, even before the Pandora-incident, an organization known as the "Church of Uniotology" started looking for obelisks called "Markers" in Alliance space. These things were holy to the Uni's because the founder of their religion was killed shortly after finding one in the Chixculub-crater. The Church blamed EarthGov, which doesn't exists anymore, and now blames the Alliance instead."_

"So, Mathius found a monument?" Thomas asked, not really sure where the conversation was going. The puzzlement also meant he narrowly avoided getting his leg torn off when the centrifuge passed by, causing the entire area to tremble.

"_Officially, the "Marker" is just a monument. To the Church, it's the same as the second coming of Christ. Alliance Command though…"_

"Let me guess, it's a Reaper artifact." Kaidan said as Jane trailed off, while Thomas stiffened. _Fuck… Reapers? Here? Then…this really _is_ the Reapers' doing? Does Harbinger controls both Collectors and these things? _

"_Exactly what Alliance Command believes. Hence why this entire system is sealed off for all travel. Also, the colony on Aegis Seven was supposed to have been dismantled decades ago… someone didn't get the memo, and now Mathius wanted to ship home a Reaper Artifact."_

"Fuck me…" Thomas muttered, taking the lift up as the last person. Kaidan was already at the door leading back the way they'd entered.

"_No thank you. I think it's safe to assume the undead crewmembers have undergone something similar to the Husks we saw last year."_

"Captain, sending you a vid-file. We've seen how the crew is turned." Kaidan said in a low tone, leaning against the wall in the small air-lock between the outside corridor and the gravity-centrifuge. There was a short pause, where background-noise in Jane's link revealed she was watching the gruesome transformation.

"_This… it doesn't change things. Kill anything hostile, but focus on those "infectors". We can't… wait. What the hell are you- Daniels! Restrain the man, for God's sake! Stop fighting, you old idiot. You already face trials for illegal- what the- I said hold him you-!... Oh fuck…"_

"Captain? Jane?" Kaidan stood from the wall, concern clear in his voice.

"_Oh shit, shit, shit…Fuck. No, wait! Doctor!" _Jane yelled on the other end.

"Jane!" Kaidan almost shouted, pacing around as he could only listen and guess what was going on.

"_Fuck…okay, mission-relevant update. Mathius is dead. One of the ship's doctors, Terrence Kyne stabbed him in the eye with a sedative. For now, our mission is simplified to making it out alive. And… wait."_

The team waited in dead silence, not knowing what the hell was going on. Thomas wasn't even sure he wanted to know. _Mathius is dead? Fuck us, Vincent's going to flip her shit when she hears this…_

"_Okay… fuck. First of all, Daniels just took off after Kyne. Second, and far more disturbing… apparently, hydroponics are being poisoned. Something's filling up the entire deck with organic matter, but fuck if I know what. I'm trying to restore systems from up here, but the bridge is scared shitless for the moment… I never should have taken this mission. I'm sorry."_

"Don't. Captain, you had no way of knowing what would happen. We took down Saren, we can handle this." Kaidan tried reassuring her, though even Thomas could tell it wasn't going to help.

"_Tell that to… what the… fuck, never mind. Thought I saw someone I… Just get to hydroponics and find a way to kill that… whatever is doing this. Shepard out."_ The link was terminated, leaving the rest of the team in an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds. Long, painful seconds of contemplation.

"Well, you heard her. Next stop: Tram-station, then hydroponics." Kaidan said, his voice strained with frustration. Thomas didn't have much trouble guessing what was going through the man's head. It wasn't a big secret that Kaidan seemed to have a monumental crush on Jane, and just like himself, Kaidan wanted to protect the people he cared about; "I can't wait to get off this ship."

Stacking up behind the round door, the team followed through as Kaidan palmed the interface and unlocked the mechanism. They piled into the long, empty corridor, taking care to keep distance to a hole that had appeared in the wall at ground-level, easily big enough for a grown man to crawl through. _Well, that does eliminate their need for vents if they just rip open the fucking wall. Awesome._

Kaidan glanced back at them as they walked. He was probably worried that his team might suffer casualties as well, seeing how team two had been substantially bigger, and had still lost Hammond. The man himself was no pushover, Thomas knew, and he had still been killed. _Fuck, this is all just… _

"Stay sharp. If we're lucky, we won't…" He trailed off as the sound of something heavy suddenly rammed against the other side of the wall they were nearing. It sounded like someone was hitting the wall with a large slab of meat, and the bulging metal told of something _strong_ swinging the meat; "Stay calm. Retreat a bit, we don't need more of those things"

As the team was focusing on the place where the wall was straining, none of them had noticed that they were nearing the hole in the wall they'd already passed.

"I don't like this… sounds a lot bigger than the others." Ashley muttered, training her rifle at the expected place of breach. Thomas was going to speak, seeing as he too was frightened, but never got to say a word.

Something new, big and rotten shot out from the hole behind them. It caught the entire team by surprise, and apparently aimed for the closest person: Hillary. She herself leapt to the side, discarding her weapons and narrowly avoided the tentacle-like arm grabbing for her.

Not even pausing, the tentacle continued out, searching for a new target. Thomas jumped back in horror, swiping at the meaty appendix with his hand lit on fire. Aside from a slight recoil at the contact with fire, the thing didn't seem particularly bothered. Instead, it hit Thomas in the chest, sending him flying into the opposite wall where the heavy banging had stopped, his vision dancing around with flickering lights.

"Shoot it!" Kaidan ordered, blasting pellets from his shotgun straight into the meaty claws at the tip of the tentacle. Hillary and Ashley followed, rolling away whenever the tentacle grabbed for one of them. Hillary leapt forward, her Ripper spinning as she sunk the blade into the undead flesh. Stuck in the necrotic tissue, her saw-blade snapped like a piece of glass, tearing apart the entire tool and snapping the bone in Hillary's right hand. Crying out in pain, she fell backwards, watching in shock, as her Ripper was smashed to pieces with every jolting convulsion of undead flesh as the tentacle moved.

Ashley was next in line, slammed into the wall with enough force to break her spine if not for the armor. Instead, it left her just as dazed as Thomas had ended up, unable to do more than meekly fire her sidearm at the tentacle as it grabbed her around the midsection, cold, dead flesh clinging to her like a hand. Biting through the pain in her right arm, Hillary raised her left and sprayed slugs towards the tentacle, as far away from Chief Ashley as she could. There was no way she would let the thing have her Chief, but she also very much didn't want to shoot Ashley. The shots tore into the dead tissue, but didn't do much more than bring out an enraged howl from somewhere deep within the ship.

Kaidan jumped in, slamming a fist flaring with disruptive energies into the flesh of the tentacle, tearing through it with a disgusting, organic-sounding tearing of matter. Something _big_ howled in anger, and slammed Ashley into Hillary, throwing both women along the ground in a heap. Kaidan jumped back, narrowly avoiding the tentacle's attempt to grab his leg. He looked around, noticing that all three members of his team were out cold or just now starting to come to. There was no way he was leaving them behind by simply fleeing.

Encasing himself in a reaving field of gravitational energy, he shot forward, dodging the mangled fist of the tentacle as it slammed down where he had just been. Using his biotics, he jumped in the air as the tentacle made a sweep towards him.

It caught his foot.

The disruption in his leap made him hit the wall head-on, cracking the transparent alloy in his visor and sending stars to his eyes.

Kaidan hit the ground hard, his biotics only managing to soften the impact enough that he didn't fully lose consciousness. Something heavy smashed down on his left leg, crushing everything from foot to thigh under its weight. He screamed in agony, even as his HUD flared with a warning of a suit-breach. Adrenaline riding his system, and panic flooding his mind, Kaidan hurled a warp at the meat holding his leg in a crushing grip, managing to tear off a chunk of yellow, diseased flesh. The entire arm convulsed and throbbed in what seemed like actual pain, before retracting into the hole, leaving the heavily bleeding man on the floor, wheezing and sobbing in agony, his shaking body starting a weak crawl away from the wall, dragging the destroyed leg like a sack of flesh.

Thomas blinked, his vision returning slowly as his head started becoming less like a ever-exploding grenade, and more like a dull hammer hitting his temples from inside. The specks of light faded from his eyes, allowing him to start processing what was before him. First, a dull pain was throbbing in his right leg. Looking at it, his hazed mind idly recognized that the limb was bent an odd angle behind him. _That's… probably bad._

He couldn't even move the leg in question, so it was probably a bad thing. Numbly, probably because of all the painkillers his armor was pumping into him, he tried again, managing to move the foot a bit. Well, that was progress, so… his fingers were buzzing. Why were they buzzing? They didn't _look_ different, any of them. There was something, like a whimpering sob in the background of his consciousness. It probably wasn't important, or… maybe it was. Why was his mind so boggled.

"You need to get up, Thomas." He nodded, idly looking at the older woman next to him. She was all clad in civilian, her auburn hair hanging from her head in a braided ponytail. (okay, so a lot of it was grey, so what?)

"Hey Mom…" He muttered, not even registering the oddity of her presence; "I think I broke my leg."

"Oh, my poor boy." She cooed, giving him a loving hug; "You are a grown man now, a big boy."

"I know. I even got a girlfriend." He said, smiling goofily as slight reddening reached his neck; "Her name's Ashley. She's really beautiful."

"I'm so proud of you, Thomas." She said, smiling warmly at him; "I think you should go to her. Don't you?"

"Yeah, I know. We're fighting a lot of scary things, because I'm a real soldier now." He said proudly, then looked back down at his leg; "Can't walk though…"

When he looked back up, there was no one there. The sobbing was still going on in the background, and his mind was starting to clear up. With a cold, cold start of realization, Thomas recognized the voice sobbing. _Kaidan…Kaidan?_

Snapping up from his broken leg, Thomas' eyes widened in horror as he discovered the lieutenant dragging himself across the floor. Thomas was at least ten meters away, but he could still see the thick trail of blood behind Kaidan, as well as the mangled mess that was the man's left leg. _Oh gods…_

Gasping in pain, Thomas pushed himself from the wall and stumbled forward, falling when he took the first step. The agony washing over him was enough to send him keeling and gagging with nausea as he could feel bone scraping bone. A fresh cry of pain and distress breached his hazed mind, forcing Thomas back to reality. There. Kaidan was injured. He was _really_ injured. Kaidan was injured. Kaidan. The man who'd practically been a mentor in social behavior since Thomas had even gotten on the Normandy. The man who had time and time again risked himself for members of the crew, for their friends.

_No. No fucking way! I won't let him be harmed! No FUCKING WAY!_

Biting through the pain, Thomas hobbled forward, falling to his knees again as the pain became too much, then simply crawled towards Kaidan. There were cracks in the lieutenant's helmet, and Thomas could see sparks from places where his armor had been compromised.

"Kaidan!" He called out, begging for the man's attention. He was close now. Close enough to reach out a hand and… save his friend. Save his friend. From drifting away. From falling to the planet below. No. No, Kaidan was… John was… Kaidan. Kaidan needed help. Thomas could hear it in the heavy breathing coming from the cracks in the lieutenant's helmet. The exhaustion caused Thomas to flicker away the specks of light entering his vision, then grabbed for Kaidan's outstretched hand.

Missed.

Reach again, closer. Thomas growled, frustrated that his arm refused to work. He could see Kaidan was bleeding heavily from the ruined leg being dragged after him. Medigel could fix that. It had to.

Then Thomas saw something shoot from the hole in the wall. A new tentacle, or the old, he didn't know. His mind refused to process the fact that the heavy, meaty claw slammed down on Kaidan's already broken leg, causing the man to scream in agony as his bones were pulped to fragments.

Thomas stared in raw horror, his limbs refusing to work even as his mind screamed to help Kaidan. With wide eyes, he was forced to look on in sickening horror as the tentacle dragged Kaidan to the hole in the wall. Kaidan's right leg managed to stand against the wall, providing him with enough support that Thomas would be able to get to him, to save him.

Then the tentacle yanked, and bones broke and crunched in Kaidan's right leg, bending it up along his upper body while his armor was torn at the hip, plates of ceramics cutting bloody gashes into his flesh. Even more blood gushed out, covering the entrance to the hole in a wide smear of thick liquids.

Kaidan had stopped screaming.

Then he was gone.

* * *

**Yeah, so... that happened.**


	14. Broken Rock

**AAAAAAAAAAND WE'RE BACK!**

**Yeah I know, it has been far too long a break, but that's what happens when you've got an autistic author behind the keyboard. I getz me an idea, and I cannot let it go again. Hence the new story-cross over with Skyrim and Dragon Age. Surprisingly, it actually seems like something I can continue. Sad thing is, updates will soon get VERY far in-between. Why, you ask?**

**Well, as of the ninth August, I am leaving for New Zealand. I'll be bringing a tablet with a keyboard, but I have no idea how much time I get to write when down there, seeing how I'll be working for my lodging most of the time. Cool concept too, actually. I much prefer working for my stay than for pay, rhyme as it does. So, I'll be spending a whole year down there, and hopefully get over my very-recently renewed fear of flying, seeing how planes seem to be falling at a disturbing rate this year. Safest method of travel or not, I do not like it. Yet, sodding world only has that as a method of getting me from A to B, or really it's from DK to NZ... getting tired, sorry.**

**I'll do my best to update my stories while down there, of course, but the quality might change a bit. I found that I wite a bit more primitively on the tablet, though not sure why. I mean, heck, I wrote the chapters with Teltin and Jennifer on my phone while I was in Spain. Sigh... I think it's just the anxeity of travelling down there on my own. Yep, even with parents who saw India as 16-year olds, I am afraid of travelling to a modern, well-liked country with modern and safe methods.**

**Not much of an adventurer lost in me, it seems.**

**Anyway, if we move on from my ranting about the terrible, bleak future of my Sabbatory journey (Think that's what it's called, unless Sabbatory means something else than I think... in which case I appologize for the religious offense... I think. Not sure if religious... or grammar nazi. Yeah, had to use Fry at least once before I left.), let us commence on this new chapter. **

**A reason this took so long to get out was that I had a few rewrites to do as well. Reactions were a "boat" to write, and I ended up deleting the whole thing at one point. Ah well, be the judges, why don't you, hmmm? :)**

* * *

**Broken Rock**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Engineering Deck, intern corridors

17:02

Consciousness came back as a groan, like dragging tar through her brain. The smell of decay hang in the air, and her mouth was heavy with thickness, the taste of iron being the most prominent she could sense. She'd bit her tongue, simply put. Though, she had some issues remembering just what had happened.

There had been something hitting the wall from the other side…. They'd been in the corridor, that she knew. There'd been something that made them back up… the hitting on the wall, (because that seemed to be a mystery to her brain) and then there… what had happened?

Right, the giant tentacle in the wall had attacked them and hit her. That was about as far as she remembered. Also, there was something shifting and groaning beneath her. Ashley moaned, rolling off the unstable ground, only to find Hillary's slowly twitching form there. The woman was clutching her right arm, stifled sniffles, like a child suppressing its pain, came from the woman. _Wait…where…_

Dull pain changed to mounting panic as she searched around, trying to find the two other members of their team. Last she'd seen, Kaidan was the last man standing, and since _they_ were still alive, the guy must have pulled something brilliant off. He'd done thát before, to the frustration of certain crewmen at the poker-table.

Thomas. She'd seen Thomas being flung into one of the walls. Where was he now?

Was he safe? Alright? Injured? Had something dragged him off in an unconscious state? No. No he had to still be around, just like Kaidan. The lieutenant was likely just helping their heaviest hitter back on his feet before anything else happened.

Then she heard the crying.

It was silent, at first, but started rising in intensity and pitch both, if slowly. Someone's breath was heaving, the sobbing interrupted by faster and faster breathing.

Feeling panic rise in her once more, Ashley snapped to the direction of the sound. At first, she wasn't fully aware of what she was seeing. Then, as she realized what she was looking at, her mind started refusing to process the implications of it.

"Wh…" Her mouth and throat dried up, also refusing her the simple realization that stared back at her. Her heart was already beating faster than what could be considered healthy, her skin crawling with raw fear as she looked, simply, merely looked at what was before her.

The Service Chief was lying sideways on the ground, his body curled into a fetal position while tremors washed over him. His right leg was bent an odd way, and his hands continuously swept through the thick carpet of fresh blood staining the floor between him and the hole in the wall. Ashley wasn't even fully aware of her own body as she found herself rushing to his side.

* * *

Thomas stared at the hole in the wall. It really was the only thing he had the mental capability to handle right then and there. Simply staring at the wall, staring at the hole that had swallowed Kaidan. Stare at his hands too, as they sought through the bloody carpet of mushy liquids covering the ground near the hole. He could still hear Kaidan's screams, hear him crying. The sound was burned into his brain, a mental scar that wouldn't leave him alone. Every time he blinked, the image of a meaty tentacle dragging Kaidan away was on his eyelids. He tried not to blink at all. It didn't work.

Why?

Why… why had this happened?

Kaidan wasn't supposed to die. No one was supposed to die when they'd survived Virmire. Then Garrus had died… and Thomas knew it was his fault. Now, Kaidan was gone. The pillar of strength for the entire crew, the man who called all friend… He was gone. Just gone. There wasn't even a corpse to cry over.

So Thomas cried where he was instead. Lying on his side, staring at the hole and the blood and his hands, Thomas cried. He wept silently, his helmet muffling the sounds to a degree, though it was probably still audible anyway. He didn't care. Kaidan had trusted him. Kaidan had _relied_ on him. In his last moments, Kaidan had _pleaded_ with him for help.

And he had failed.

Gods, he felt sick. He felt sick, sick with himself, sick with the world, sick with the constant evils who always took away the people he cared for. But most of all, Thomas was sick with himself. He carried the power of a god, and had been found wanting when it was most crucial that he succeeded. And now, Kaidan had paid the price for it, joining the list of people whom Thomas could have saved, _if only he had been fast enough_.

_The universe is a massive bitch._

Staring at the blood, at the wall and the hole, Thomas hardly felt, much less registered it when a person slid down next to him. He didn't care if it was even one of those monsters. He'd failed those who trusted him. What _good_ was he?

"Thomas…"

_Leave me alone…_

"Thomas, can you hear me?!"

_Go away…_

"Thomas, _please_ talk to me, anything!"

_I'm not worth it. I just get people killed._

"_Look at me!_ Thomas, are you hurt? Where's Kaidan, what happened?" The pleading tone only made it worse. It was Ashley. It was the woman he wanted to protect more than anything in the world. If she was anywhere near him, he was just going to get her hurt too. And when she found out why Kaidan was gone... He would deserve whatever she did or said to him.

He'd failed. A fucking, massive _failure._

Instead of saying anything, he slowly turned his head to look at her, and found he was actually lying with his head in her lap. Ashley was frantically checking his armored body for injuries, casting obviously nervous glances at his leg. Right, his leg was wrong. Why was it wrong? Because he had failed to protect his group. Now Kaidan was dead, and Hillary was probably dead too.

"Oh God… is that…" He could hear Ashley whisper. So, she had probably figured it out too. She had figured out what had happened to Kaidan. So, next to come would be her figuring out that _he_ was to blame; "Thomas… is…Where is Kaidan?"

He couldn't answer. How could he? The only answer he could give her would be the message to shatter her heart. Thomas' own had already been wrenched and broken time and time again, with each death of a comrade. Kaidan had been there since the beginning, since it all started. And now, because Thomas couldn't figure out his own body, the lieutenant was gone.

"Fuck…Oh _fucking_ hell." So, Hillary was alive too then? Good, at least he hadn't gotten more people killed. Not that it mattered much though. Kaidan had been part of the Normandy's crew even longer than he or Ash. He was actually the oldest member of the ground crew too, and… now, nothing; "Chief…I think Kaidan's dead."

"No he isn't. He isn't dead." The desperation in Ashley's tone was… it _hurt,_ to listen to. It just spelled out even more powerfully, just how much the Chief had cared about Kaidan. Everyone had held him in high regard, even Wrex. And now…now all that remained was a stain of blood leading to a hole in a wall.

"Ashley, there's a fucking fresh sea of blood by that hole. I don't see nobody else who could have been dragged down there."

"He… Thomas, what happened?" Ashely snapped back, turning her attention to Thomas again. He winced at her frightened tone, wishing he could just be swallowed up by the ship's floor. Still, there was nothing for it now. The truth, as brutal and ugly as it was, needed to be known.

"…I failed him." Thomas whispered, his voice hoarse with grief. Ashley was silent, though Hillary started muttering a long string of curses. Thomas couldn't make out _what_, but didn't care either; "_Gods_, I failed him…I failed him…I failed him, I failed him, I failed him, I failed him."

"Snap the _fuck_ out of it, Chief." Hillary yelled, slapping the back of his helmeted head; "Tell us what happened instead of ranting like a fucking baby!"

"Stop it! He's in shock." The fact that Ashley addressed Hillary with so much desperation in her voice, probably did a lot to silence the younger woman. Still, she had a point. He at least _needed _to tell what had happened, and then… he didn't really know _what_ then.

"I… I woke up, and… and Kaidan was crawling to- towards me. I tried to… to help… _help_ him and…" He stopped as the sobs became more intense and stole his breath, unable to finish his sentence. The scene still played back in his mind, the horrible sound as something heavy crushed Kaidan's leg, the sound of him weeping in pain.

"Come on, Thom." Ashley muttered, hoisting him on his feet. Unable to support his own weight, she ended up carrying him to the closest wall, leaning him against it. Another failure, he realized. Another moment where _he_ depended on _them_. Another moment where he dragged them down instead of being the one to shield his friends; _"Talk_ to me."

"Something…came out. The thing from the wall, it… it took…I couldn't…" He broke down into sobbing once more.

* * *

Ashley pressed her eyes shut, praying for Thomas to be wrong or simply lying. There was no way Kaidan of all people had been killed, and yet… she believed Thomas. She knew he couldn't lie, not even through a helmet. And the blood. Oh God, there was so much of it. With tears trying to break out, she gathered Thomas into her arms, ignoring the wince he gave when his leg was moved, and clutched him to her in a desperate hug. She wasn't even sure if the hug was meant for her or him, but it was needed.

"Chief…Chief_s_, we should call this in." Hillary muttered from behind them. Ashley nodded, pulling up her Omnitool while holding Thomas with the other arm. _God, what the hell am I going to say? I don't even know what happened and Thomas… I don't know if something is broken…_

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams to Bridge, come in Bridge."

"_Shepard here. Ashley, what's going on?"_ Jane asked. Ashley felt a wave of shame washing over her. She knew, even while she might not like Jane on a personal level, that the lieutenant and her had been something closer. And now, she was bringing the news.

"Man down. I repeat, we… have a man down in Engineering." She said, keeping her voice as crisp as she possibly could. With her heart stuck in her throat and her eyes welling with silent tears, "crisp" wasn't a very descriptive term for her voice.

For a long moment, Jane didn't answer. There was only the sound of her heavy breathing on the other end, broken when she audibly forced her breath into long, controlled heaves.

_"Who?"_ Jane probably knew Ashley would only know about the casualties on her own team. It didn't leave out much to interpretation if Ashley wasn't sobbing uncontrollably. She suspected Jane already knew.

"Something came out of the wall, something big and… and we didn't even… It grabbed me and Kaidan repelled it and… then I woke up and-"

_"Who?"_ The cold tone to Jane's voice unnerved Ashley. A normal, worried person would probably be on the verge of an outburst, but Jane sounded like she was interrogating a criminal, not a comrade.

"Kaidan. It took him. It knocked us all down and… just… I don't even know, I wasn't conscious, I just woke up to Thomas lying in Kaidan's bl…on the floor. We're pulling back to the control station."

There was no affirmative or response. Ashley waited for a few moments, examining her Omnitool to see if the connection had been severed. It hadn't. Jane was still on the other end, then.

"Captain?"

Again, there was nothing but silence, broken only by the increasingly rapid, raspy breathing.

"…Jane?"

* * *

17:31

MSV Ishimura

Bridge, Main atrium.

"…_Jane?"_

The world seemed to stop around her, and pass by even faster at the same time. It felt like a dream, with her skin crawling and turning to some sort of liquid. Her heart started beating faster and faster, sweat pouring out from every pore, though she hardly felt it at all. _Why? Why? Haven't I lost enough already? _

Magnus was killed, then Garrus, and now Kaidan. Everyone she cared about, and for, died horrible deaths. It started looking less like cruel occurrences, and more and more like someone was deliberately being evil, enjoying the pain it brought her.

A simple mission… they'd called it a simple mission. Go out, arrest the captain, repair the comms, signal Alliance warships, mission accomplished. Instead, people were dying all around her. Her crew was dying all around her. Monsters emerged from the vents and woodworks, killing those trusting her with their lives. God, what a sick joke.

"Thank you, Williams." She was surprised at the calm of her voice, but then again, being emotionally dead apparently did that to a person. _Emotionally dead, huh? I guess…_; "Could you please contact Johnston and Chen, have them see if the Kellion is still operational."

"_I…Yes, Captain_." Williams muttered. The woman's voice was rough and obviously under a lot of stress. Jane found she really couldn't care less anymore. After almost a full minute, the Chief returned in her ear; "_Johnston says he believes it'll be space-worthy, but we won't have anything but the back-up thrusters to propel us."_

"What's your current status? Is Fisher injured, Pennyloafer, you?"

"_I'm fine, more or less. Shit…Hillary's broken her arm, and Thomas's right leg's broken. I've made a triage and we're returning to the control-room."_ Williams' frustrated voice felt somehow like the small anchor that still held Jane to reality. It was a thin line, albeit, and not a very good one either.

The fact that Magnus was standing across the room from her, was a clue that things were going completely, and very, very wrong.

"Alright… take the tram back to the Flight Deck when you've regrouped. We're leaving this place, and we're leaving now. Williams, if I'm not there in half an hour, take off without me."

She killed the transmission before anything more could be said. What _could_ be said? That Kaidan had been the closest thing she'd had to recovering from Magnus' death? That she might even have loved him? Might even have one day returned the feelings she knew he had for her? That his death was impossible, because he _couldn't _die?

None of that would make sense. It did to her, but others… it was kinda funny, actually. Jane wasn't sure _why_ it was funny, but she found her lips starting to crack a smile. Things were so impossible, it was probably all just a dream. Heck, maybe she was on drugs? Maybe this was all a dream and she could do whatever she wanted?

She didn't even blame it on the nearby people when they started backing away, probably not finding her sudden chuckling very nice to listen to. Well, fuck 'em. She could find whatever she damned well please funny, and sod the consequences. Heck, she was probably having some sort of acid-dream. Still, that'd mean someone had talked her into taking drugs.

Still, she did find everything a lot funnier all of a sudden.

With the half-crazed, concealed grin behind her helmet, Jane turned to the rest of the bridge, the closest of them, White included, giving her concerned and expectant looks. Sure, they did look at her like she was supposed to know what to do. _What to do? What to do? Hmm… this all started because of the Uniotologists bringing some artifact here… so they're to blame. _

"Alright. Uniotologists, raise your hands!" She shouted, looking over the assembled bridge-crew. Somewhere near a third of the present crew hesitantly raised their hands, while Jane noted who exactly they were. Heck, just because she was fighting the urge to laugh and weep at the same time, it didn't mean she couldn't be a bit organized, did it?_ Good, that's all of them then._

Eleven Uniotologists in the room. Good. And the guards were still tied up and out cold. Whatever Daniels had injected them with seemed to work just fine. That, or she'd just bashed them over the heads. Whatever worked. She really didn't care if they were dead.

"Can all those affiliated with the Church, please stand?" Good, they obeyed orders. That'd make all this so much easier too. Stifling her laughter, Jane heaved deep breaths to calm her nerves, then walked to the first Uniotologists. A pale-skinned woman with blond hair tied up in a short ponytail. She looked quite cute, actually. Probably not much older than twenty-six. Seemed to be the age every woman in the navy was in, no matter the station. Odd, that.

"Name?"

"Jessica Normans." The woman, her tone rather meek, replied. She was doing a good job of standing straight and presenting the proper stature for a crewmember.

"Rank?"

"Comms-specialist, ma'am. Is there something-"

"Rank. As in rank in the Church." Jane clarified. She honestly couldn't give less of a shit if this woman was White's second-in-command. At the clarification, the woman visibly blushed, seemingly both proud and shy of her affiliation.

"I-Initiate, ma'am. My family joined a year back."

"Uh huh. Tell me, Jessica. What does the Church tell you about what's going on around here, like with the artifact and the killings and all?" The question seemed to make the young woman rather nervous, as well as a lot of the nearby crew. _Or, it could be the handgun I'm pointing at her forehead. Oh well._

Said handgun was, in fact, pointed at Jessica's forehead, just touching the skin above her eyes. The young woman's eyes widened in fear, having obviously never held or handled a weapon before. Sweat was already starting to roll down her forehead, greasing the skin where the gun touched.

"Wha- what are you- Plea-"

"I asked you a question." Jane broke her off. Her tone, as well as her entire being, was changed from the cheerfully crazed mindset she'd been in. Denial was a terrible thing. _Kaidan's dead, and it's these people's fault. These sacks of shit shipped the artifact around and brought us here._

"I- I don't know!" Jessica pleaded, her skin white as a sheet with fear; "I never heard anything about anything! The Captain called it a test of our faith!" Jane smirked at the panicked reply.

"Wrong answer."

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Office of Admiral Anna Fisher

17:39

"Then what _is_ the right answer?"

"Fire, and lots of it." Price explained, most of his form concealed behind a large scientific lab-coat. It seemed to be his way of handling stress, dressing up without even needing to. Who'd have thought, right? Captain John Price, famous war hero of World War 3. Grizzled Veteran and all that, and the guy actually possessed a sense of humor.

"That's _my_ answer to everything… but how does it help us here?" Anna asked. She was currently looking over the results from 'Project Bloodline's second state. The first state was simply concerned with determining the source of Thomas' powers. The second state, or whatever the hell Cole called it, was concerned with determining the difference between the different powers that could be achieved as a result thereof.

"We need to get your brother back here, then hook him up and have him blast away. We can measure the results from his power-usage, and compare it to Urdnot Wrex's. The again, he is an alien, so it's entirely possible that he'd have a different network of chi-channels."

"How would _that_ even work? Hook him up to _what_? A Chi-O-meter?" Anna groaned in disbelief and annoyance. She wasn't annoyed because she was worried about her brother (because he was a scientific impossibility and more or less immortal), but about the fact that her current projects were funded via own pocket, and said pocket was starting to feel shallow.

"It was just a suggestion, ma'am. I have no programs suggesting how this paranormal stuff works." Price shrugged. Anna palmed her face and slid the hand down, briefly smoothing the wrinkles before they bounced right back up. Getting old in the middle of a war for galactic existence ought to be illegal.

"…Okay. Has there been any contact from Shepard's team?"

"Nothing yet. But they do need to get the comms up on the damn thing, far as I recall. Give them some time. Extra-net says Planet-crackers are almost as big as your dreadnoughts, though nowhere near the Infinity-class warships."

"And you're _sure_ you don't have the schematics for one of those?" God, it was annoying how he could tell her all about this _huge_ warship and didn't have a single shitting schematic for it. Kasumi was back in the Andromeda galaxy, so she wasn't an option for the next month or so. That left another question, since asking Price was a lot faster than calling up Cole herself; "By the way, how's 'Relay' working so far?"

Price got a frustrated look. Oh, that was never a good sign (even if it did make him fucking adorable, like a fuzzy teddy bear. Granted, _this_ Teddy bear was armed to take down the infrastructure of half the galaxy with a snap of his digital fingers, so there was thát too ), so she leaned back, closed her eyes and awaited the lecture on how humans weren't supposed to shit on God and all that.

"Admiral, you're trying to play around with the toys of gods here. My creators could traverse the galaxy in days, _without_ the Relays. _They_ couldn't do anything like this." And_ there_ was the lecture. Great, schooled in theological morale by an AI of a soldier. The world really was starting to get a bit weird.

"That's not a 'no'." She said with a hopeful, and a little sardonic tone to the construct. Price leveled a flat look at her for almost ten whole seconds before he spoke;

"It's not a bloody 'yes' either." He exclaimed, smacking a hand onto his mottonstache. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to pull it; "Listen, we're making _some_ progress, but… it's all still theoretical, even _with_ Agent Goto's coded… _You_ get to explain to her why I hacked those, by the way."

"Of course. I am a responsible adult after all." She stated more or less truthfully, pulling the cork from her whiskey before indulging in a swig of the sweet, sweet nectar. Price looked at her, stone-faced for a moment;

"…I have _no_ idea where to even start with what you just said." He finally said, resisting a visibly string urge to smack his face again. Anna chuckled, but didn't pester him further; "But… there are _two_ options I'd try, if I were you, and if the Relay actually ends up working. Lord knows you're spending a lot of cash on it too."

"I _know_ that, okay?" She muttered, taking a fresh swig before refocusing on the AI; "So?"

"First option would be to attempt acquiring the schematics for the Infinity-class warship from my creators. Stay the fuck off the Spartan-program though, your soul's _not._ worth it. I don't have the data yet to determine if the Spartan-IV's would be more effective than the N7-soldiers though. I'll get back to you on that."

"Noted, I guess. Second option?" Anna nodded her head towards the AI, gesturing for him to proceed.

"Get an actual link between here and the Andromeda. We're in the same universe, so some rules should be easier to circumvent than trying to cross dimensions. Those guys seem to have perfected plasma as a weapon, and plasma seems to ignore the initial shielding we saw on Sovereign. Replacing the Bofors-guns with Plasma-cannons, _could_ make a difference."

"We _tried_ that already, remember? Something about needing a power plant the size of a Mothership to get it running." Anna groaned, then sat up as a thought hit her; "Got word from the State yet?"

Price frowned. It rarely was a good sign when he did that.

"Not yet, no. I tried going through their databases. Seems like they're in a feud with the French Government over something. Couldn't find out what exactly." The AI admitted. There was shame in his voice, as he was supposed to be able to hack through just about anything man- and alien-made. Reapers were the exception Anna would allow for, but that was where the line was supposed to have been drawn in the sand.

"Alright…What's that other idea of yours then?" Anna muttered as she rubbed her temples. Getting old _really _sucked. Price nodded, seemingly going over something in his software. Anna looked at him in silence until he looked back up.

"Ever heard the name Maelon Heplorn?"

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system

Engineering Deck, Tram station.

18:21

"I don't like this. Not one bit." Tequila muttered as she gripped the rifle in her hands tighter. Ashley offered the woman a dry, exhausted look before turning back to the rest of the group. The last time she had been in command of a team, had been on Eden Prime.

There was a weird sense of repetition that both Thomas and Hillary were present for this too. The situation felt a little like a repetition too, actually. On the run, fighting an unknown and horrifying enemy, loosing people left and right.

And now Kaidan. God.

"Well who the fuck _does_?" Hillary cursed as she held her arm close to her chest. The thing had been coated in Omnigel before being strapped against her chest with a piece of wire. Ashley had done that herself, and wasn't sure if she should be proud or not. Likely, it was the latter.

The reason for her sudden position of command was not one to be proud of. At all.

"We're gonna die. _Shit_! We're all gonna fucking die!" Pendleton paced around near the edge, and Ashley had half a mind to simply kick him over the edge of the platform. His constant fatalistic bullshit was getting on her nerves, and now Thomas was more or less unable to move without help. Shit, everything was just going to absolute Hell in the ugliest hand-basket she'd ever seen.

"Shut the _fuck_ up, Pendleton!" Vincent barked, slapping the man. For a woman of her size, it was impressive that she could even make the man feel the slap. Still, it made him quiet down. Ashley sent the woman, though she still had some reservations about her, a grateful nod.

As the tram arrived, Ashley ushered the group in. Clarke waited as the last before entering, looking at her for an uncomfortable few moments. It felt like he was judging her, though she had no idea why. She didn't know the man. Didn't _want_ to know him. She just wanted off this ship while the majority of her comrades were still alive. To forestall any comments, she opened the link to the two guards at the Kellion.

"Williams here. How's the ship looking?" Her question was followed up by the sound of gunfire. Ashley's eyes widened; "Johnston, report!"

"_We're under atta- SHIT! Aaaahhhhh!" "Die you little- IT'S ON ME! IT'S ON- GET IT OFF M-"_ The link died in her ear, leaving the woman with no idea what to do. If there was a light side to this, it was that her comms had been on speakers, so there was no need to tell the others what she'd just heard. They all had.

"Well… I always _did_ know I wasn't going to die from old age…" Nicolai muttered sullenly. His machinegun was folded on his back in favor of the shotgun in his hands. Ashley sent a mental 'thank you' to Tequila when the corporal smacked the Pfc. over the head;

"Shut up. We're going to make it out."

"If you say so…" He muttered. Ashley looked from the disillusioned group, to Thomas. He was doing his best not to put weight on his right leg, but otherwise remained silent as the grave. Ashley believed she knew why, too. Empowered and armed or not, Thomas was in his heart still a civilian. He hadn't been raised to fight, hadn't been trained for months to kill someone else. And he hadn't been trained in recovering from the death of his friends. Nothing could train you for that, she knew. And hated that he'd been hauled through it.

The tram stopped by the flight-deck, ending all possible conversation. As the group departed the tram, they were greeted by only silence. There wasn't even the sound of the ship creaking anymore, or the screams of dying crew.

How sick was it that she wanted to hear those things again, just to escape the silence?

Even without noise, or maybe directly _because_ of the silence, the corridors felt like they were pressing down on her shoulders, on her mind. Every shadow seemed to possess evil eyes, tracking their movements. Every time Ashley swung her flashlight at where she thought she saw a flicker of movement, there was nothing but the silence of the dead ship.

Ghosts in the dark. That was a pretty accurate way to put how she felt.

As the door opened to the lounge, Ashley followed her shotgun in, ready to paint the walls with whatever monster was ready to leap out of the woodworks. It was a nasty feeling, knowing the undead might be watching. God, how had everything gone so much to shit so fast?

Somehow, she wasn't really surprised when God didn't answer her.

The room was the same as they'd left it. No. She realized it wasn't the same at all. The walls were sporting multiple holes where slugs had embedded into the metal, and the floor was slick with blood around one of the vents. Blood, which hadn't been there the last time.

"And then there were fewer…" Adrian muttered as he knelt by the bloody shreds of meat that seemed to resemble a human hand; "Jesus…"

"This place is about as far from Jesus as you could get…" Tequila muttered. Her rifle was trained on the vents, both in the ceiling and in the walls, and her finger was twitching on the trigger. Ashley realized that the corporal had been through something like this before, and found that she felt a little sick for never having thought about that. Tequila had been dragged through one infestation already, and no one had, far as Ashley knew, ever talked to her about it.

Shit, this place was getting to her.

The constant fear, death, fighting and now the knowledge that one member of their old crew, of _the_ old crew, had entered this ship and wouldn't be leaving it again.

"Keep your guards up." She ordered in a low voice, moving towards the doors leading to the hangar.

"Couldn't pay me to let it down…" Adrian said in the same tone as her. Ashley didn't spare a glance towards him, as her eyes instead shifted between looking forward, and keeping an eye on Thomas. God, what a nightmare this had turned into. Fighting regular soldiers, she could do. Thomas could too, she knew. Even geth or Reapers were something you could fight and retain your sanity, but what was going on now?

The Devil himself couldn't have set it up better.

Likely, he would have been against it. Ashley grit her teeth to stop the gallows'-humored smile from seeping onto her face. _Siding with the Devil… I'm losing ground here…_

She stacked against the doors, shotgun at the ready. Looking at the group, she signaled for Adrian and Clarke to join her at the door. Adrian took the other side, while Clarke readied a biotic barrier as he stood in front of the door. Nodding, Ashley palmed the interface.

Nothing happened.

She frowned and hit it again. The interface went from green to red, and then died out completely. She stared at the controls, trying to figure out just what had gone wrong. Had the power been cut? No, no then it wouldn't have been green to begin with.

"Well that was disappointing…" Hillary mused with a strained voice. Ashley chose to ignore her over the issues with the door. So, it wasn't the power.

But what then? She hit the controls again, to the same result. Ashley cursed under her breath before turning to Thomas. Technically they _did_ have blowtorches as an option in the military-grade Omnitools, but even with his leg injured, Thomas was the better option.

"Get the door. We'll cover you." Her voice was curt and professional, as she feared Thomas might hear the worry and fright in her voice if she spoke with anything but discipline and coolness. Shit. Wet-work really wasn't the best thing for relationships. _Why am I even…Just…_

"Right…" The reply was utterly devoid of anything remotely resembling the life usually in his voice. Instead, it was just cold. Dead, like he didn't even realize what he was doing. Like he didn't even worry about his own safety.

Not for the first time, Ashley felt the dread stir in her chest as she feared what might have happened to him. He was hurting, that much was evident. And natural, since she was as well. But, how bad was it? Ashley had lost friends before, it "came with being a marine", as dad told her back then. But Thomas hadn't grown up being the child of a marine. He hadn't spent months in boot-camp, hadn't spent months in garrisons, hadn't fought battles before Eden Prime. He hadn't been ready, not for this.

And she hated herself for him being there.

That was a pang of ugly realization. She didn't hate or blame Jane for Thomas being a wreck. She blamed herself. God, she wanted off this hellish mockery of a mission.

"There." Thomas said, stepping away from the door. Ashely hadn't been wanting to make too much noise, or she would have had Tequila simply rip the door open. This also meant she hadn't realized Thomas had even started cutting. Resisting the urge to slap her own head, Ashley pulled down a heave of air, trying to clear her mind. She hadn't even seen what Thomas was doing?

God in Heaven, what the Hell was wrong with her?

Shaking her head, Ashley nodded to Thomas before signaling for the group to get ready. She then grabbed hold of the unlocked door and pushed it open. Alliance augmentations helped where one wouldn't have expected it.

She let go of the door and gave the hangar a quick scan. All silent. Pulling her shotgun back out, she turned to the group, signaled them to follow and turned back around. Her eyes widened and her heart nearly stopped. She dropped her gun, clattering on the floor as her brain tried processing what she saw.

"…D-Da…_DAD_?!"


	15. Wake from the Nightmare

**ahhhhh... yep. I am back. I never actually left, but I have little access to wifi here. As a result, this is a late but long update.**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

**Wake from the Nightmare**

* * *

January 6th

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-system.

Flight deck, hangar.

18:05

"D-Da-_Dad?_"

There was something of a dead, stunned silence from the group as they shifted their eyes from the hangar, to the Gunnery Chief. She was standing stock-still in the entrance to the hangar, her hand outstretched towards the empty air.

Thomas stared at her, a sick feeling settling in his gut. There was no one there, not even the two guards supposed to stay with the Kellion. There was a lot of fresh blood smeared over the walkway by the small frigate, and several mutilated, bullet-ridden undead on the way between there and the door.

"Ash?"

Ashley stepped forward, her rifle left behind with a clatter on the walkway. The fear mounted in Thomas when there was no reaction from the Chief. She just muttered incoherently, stumbling forward with outreaching palms.

"Where… don't leave…_Hurt?!_" What few words he could pick up from her as he limped after her, were anything but assuring. It was like she was talking to someone, but as she walked over the gaping head and upper torso of Cheng, there was no way she was in her right mind.

"Ash? Ashley?" Thomas groaned, making his voice as calm as possible; "Talk to me, come on."

"Need…" she muttered, a desperate edge to her voice as she started changing direction. Her legs were starting to take her towards the edge. Thomas started speeding up, ready to break into a run, and _fuck_ the leg, if she came too close to the edge.

"Okay. _What_ do you need?" his calm voice was starting to gain an edge of the desperation coursing through his veins.

"_He_ needs…me to… come to him." She muttered as if she wasn't sure what to think. The breath stuck in Thomas' throat. Something was _very_ wrong. There was something very wrong with his Ash. _Please, what is going on?_

Ashley reached the safety rails, both hands still desperately reaching forward.

"Ash. I don't want you to… _who_ needs you to come?" His tone was starting to become pleading. She turned to look at him, her face concealed by the helmet. A wobbly, wavering hand pointed at the empty air.

"Dad. He's there." Her voice was thick with emotion, almost like she was going to cry. Thomas shook his head, He remembered perfectly well, even now, when she had told him about her dad.

"Ash, what… Your father's _dead._" He pressed, taking a step forward. At the same time, she gripped the railing harder, as if she was preparing to vault over it. Thomas tried not to look down. He failed, and saw how the fall could easily kill a person. It could kill _her_.

"I…know-but…he…he's _there_." She whispered. As everything said was broadcasted on team-comms, the entire team could hear her words like she was speaking in a normal volume.

"Ash. You're starting to scare me..." The woman he loved was seeing her dead father. That he could keep himself to a nervous state was actually surprising him.

"I can… _see_ him. Why… why can I… see him?" Her voice started breaking, sounding wet and distressed. He took a step closer, moving slow and calmly.

"It's the ship." He tried. Anything to get her distracted from whatever vision she was having; "Something… The thing making the monsters, it's doing…_things_ to us. Please, Ash, step _away_ from the edge."

She stood still for a long moment, one of the longest Thomas would ever experience. The entire team was silent, and even the mutated undead seemed content with leaving them alone. Her gloved hands were gripping the rail with enough force to shake the metal. Thomas glanced at the railing, but kept his attention on her.

She stepped away from the edge, loosening her grip on the metal rail. _Dents_ were left when she breathed and shakily stood. As she turned towards him, Thomas limped the last bit towards her, disregarded whether or not something could sneak up on them. Before she could move in any manner, he wrapped her in a fierce hug and held her fast.

"Alright… check out the ship." Clarke said behind them. Thomas appreciated the initiative, and held on to Ashley, a primal fear still clutching his heart.

"Please… Don't." He whispered to her, bypassing the comms in favor or direct speech. Her breathing came in ragged over the comms, letting the entire group listen in. Small clicks signaled members switching themselves out from the conversation. It would just be a distraction.

"But, I saw my dad. Why did I see- what's happening to me?" her voice broke, letting out the Words between small sobs.

"I don't know. Gods above, I don't know." Thomas breathed, slowly starting to release her. The embrace was awkward and unwieldy in the armor, and left his shoulders hurting; "I just want off this place."

* * *

The platform caused surprisingly little noise as it walked the hallways near the cargo area. Both green appendixes were flickering brightly with green flames, and the construct carried itself through the corridors with the posture of a silent hunter.

Nothing _needed_ to be said as it grabbed an undead from the vent it passed, smashed it into the ground with enough force to shatter the skull, before bathing the miserable creature in emerald fire until it was nothing but a reeking smear on the ground, scorched beyond even undeath.

"_**Disgusting"**_ The geth platform growled with the voice of an old man. A fat, lumbering undead emerging from a side door, met a similar fate as it was sliced from top to bottom with a blade of fire. It fell apart like sacks of mud, the steaming contents of its body spilling onto the ground.

"_**This is unexpected…**_" the platform muttered to itself; _**"I did not expect him to take such interest in a single ship… too much effort involved. So, why here?"**_

If Roku found his suspicions were correct, it would raise more questions than answers, and he hated it. An advantage he had enjoyed while being more or less free to roam cosmos when he'd been based in Thomas' sub-consciousness, had been that few things were unknown to him. If there was something he wanted to know, it would have been relatively simple to merely look out over the infinite expanse.

Now, he was forced to rely on the same sensory organs, or mechanisms, as the geth. No, he corrected himself. The geth had their entire network to gain information from. Him? He had to make due with his own sight, reduced to what the eye-piece could see.

At least he had little trouble with dispatching the mutated dead. They were, for all the horror they caused, nothing but cellular fluids and bone. Organic, through and through. They might come at him, roaring, flailing their faulty, unnatural limbs, but divine fire scorched away flesh and bone.

It was the cause for the mutations, that worried him. _Worry…_ it was a thing he was not used, or meant, to feel. Aspects were above the affairs of mortality, there should have been no reason for this. And yet, he felt what humans would call "a gut-feeling" that there was more behind the hellish ship than merely a mutation.

Rounding the corner, he came into the main hangar, where the crashed mining-shuttle was still resting on the floor. This was the source of the strange energies he could feel, though he had not paid it much attention when they arrived on the ship.

Had the Aspect been one to swear, this would be when he would have cursed everything between the material plane and the immaterial, as he came upon the feared source of the ongoing nightmare.

"_**By the Master…**_" he whispered, as breathing was not a thing for him. Before Roku, standing almost seven meters tall, the artefact stood as a twisting spire of alien technology. There was evil in the air, so permeating that it was like waves could be seen like heat wafting through the room. It was an actual shimmering, a film of Eezo-powered barrier.

This was of the Rebellious Ones.

This, was of The Ones Who Are.

"_**What by All are you doing here, Scum of Existence? How **_**dare**_** you intrude upon this galaxy, so like Nazara and your infantile molester of souls that you call Harbinger?!" **_Roku bellowed, storming towards the monumental obelisk.

There was silence, but the Aspect knew the artefact had heard it all.

"_**Speak, Cur!"**_

Then, the rolling, thunderous laughter. It was like a demon, filling the cavernous room with its booming voice, yet maintaining a sharp, shrilly tone as it so clearly mocked the Aspect of Fire.

"_**Roku. So pleasant to encounter you in this… hmmm, "prestigious" form."**_The voice was familiar too, as well. Mortals would hear all Reapers, as they were known to them, as one voice, but there were as many as there were slaves in the Harbinger's army.

"_**Rho. I should not be surprised to see you in league with the Harbinger." **_The Aspect growled; _**"You always sought the easy ways to power."**_

"_**As opposed to you, and your clinging to the feces of your betters, am I correct?"**_

"_**I STAYED TRUE TO THE CAUSE!" **_ Roku's roar shattered glass around him, as the floor beneath started melting from the heat of his rage; _**"I stayed true, while you snuck off to lick the piss from your new masters."**_

"_**The "Cause"? Oh, you who know so little of the true Cause, yet claim to be beholden to the fates of insignificant insects. Bacteria, whom your master deems deserving of salvation. I would pity you your fate, was I not so enjoying my part of the preparation." **_Rho snickered.

"_**Preparation for what?"**_ Roku scoffed; _**"Your plans for the Harvest ended with Nazara's death, and her cycle of consummation. All you have left is the Collectors, and you should know as well as I what they will soon face."**_

"_**Arrogance does not become you, Roku. Much is changed from what you believe to be the preset future. The True Master sees and knows all, and he sees this Harvest starting."**_

"_**But ignorance so becomes you, Rho." **_Roku shot back. An undead infant launched itself towards him from behind, but was burned to cinders before it even came close. Beneath Roku, the floor was turning liquid; _**"I will ensure your demise as well, even if I have to drop your artefact from high orbit."**_

"_**That is why I do so enjoy you, Roku. You have this belief that we are all Nazara. That destroying our physical forms, these "Reapers" as the cycles have named us, will kill us."**_ Rho laughed, his/its voice a mockery of a human tone.

"_**It is not a belief. I do not know if it will kill every last one of you to send your mockeries of bodies into a black hole, but it will rid us of your presence. I see that as an improvement."**_ Roku allowed a small smirk in his voice as he continued turning the hangar into a furnace. Himself he wasn't affected by the heat, but the ground beneath him was five inches of liquid steel, and all equipment in the room had caught fire.

"_**And what now? Do you think to burn me? Your fire cannot harm me, slave of your petty master. I am but one, and I am not the most of the many."**_ Rho cackled; _**"Mortals are so humorous. I put up a few of these, cause just a tiiiiiiny bit of stir, and suddenly my obelisks are holy "markers". They even view it as a sacred act when I mold them for the Cause. The best part is that these creatures are not even at their full potential. Unless you find a way to stop me. Do you perhaps seek to burn me?"**_

"_**I do not seek to burn you, Rho."**_ Roku said. There was more confidence in his voice now, as he regarded the obelisk in the smelting heat. There was no sign of it taking damage by the temperatures melting everything else in the room. Already, Roku was waist-deep in the liquid metal, yet unharmed as the danger was heat. Heat, he could not be harmed by. Heat, was his essence.

"_**What then, admonish me?" **_ The Reaper mocked from within its shell of alien stone. Roku could have smiled, had the situation not been what it was. It was likely that his absence had caused the death of someone from the team. Mortals, yes, but he held them in regard all the same. He _could_ have smiled, for lack of a physical face, because while Rho was able to sense living beings and energies around him/itself, the Reaper was apparently oblivious to the fact that the floor beneath it was a boiling soup of metal.

And beneath that soup, only an increasingly thinning layer of hull separated them from the void.

"_**No…" **_ Roku mused with grim satisfaction as the walls started pouring down onto the floor in cascades of liquid metal; _**"…I wish you a pleasant flight, you spawn of questionable heritage."**_

As words, even those spoken by the gods, required air to travel, whatever reply Rho had was silenced when the last inches of hull beneath them melted, and the vacuum of space sucked out the millions of liter liquid metal, one artefact and one geth platform.

In the silence of space, Roku twisted himself through the empty void, watching with a certain glee as he obelisk sailed towards the surface of the planet below, caught in the cloud of metallic droplets.

'_I hope you have a nice landing. Do try to die, won't you?' _He chuckled a bit, watching until no even the enhanced vision of the geth eye was able to track the Marker, before he then turned his attention back to the massive mining-vessel behind him.

"Thomas, can you hear me?" He did, though, enjoy the fact that his temporary prison had a better method of communicating than any organic host he could be in. Unless he was speaking to Thomas, usually all other conversation required he was in an air-filled space.

"…_Roku? I… where the _FUCK _have you been?!" _ For some reason, Thomas sounded more angered than Roku had ever heard him before. Curious.

"Investigating the cause of this… situation. Where are you?"

"_We're in the Flight hangar, where the Kellion is… There's just been a hull-breach somewhere on this level, the alarms drew in more of the… the things… Kaidan's dead." _The last part was spoken with an immense pain. Roku nodded silently, offering no comment on that. Alenko was one of the more intelligent humans, and mortals overall, that he had yet met. A loss, no doubt.

"I heard Shepard's message. I will be with you shortly. Is she still at the bridge?" He was starting to fly back towards the ship, blazing flames behind him like the thrusters of rocket.

"_I… don't know. Ashley just had one of… We've been seeing things. Visions or… some sort. We're leaving this ship behind, and… Fuck, I just want to get out of here."_

"Was the mission accomplished?" Roku asked with a more quiet tone as he reached the hole he'd made in the hull. Likely, the room had been sealed off with bulkheads when the alarms Thomas mentioned started.

"_Fuck. the mission."_ Thomas growled on his end, and the link was cut. Roku was left with static, then ended his side as well. Mortals, humans more than most, allowed their emotions to control them far too much.

"_Well, better make sure he doesn't get himself killed."_ Roku sighed mentally. When he climbed through the large, gaping hole in the hull, the metal had solidified and broke off every time his mechanical fingers grabbed around the edges. _There's got to be a better way to dispose of Rho than to drop him on a planet…_

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Governmental Section, Outside parliament.

14:52

Anna wasn't usually one to enjoy politics. Mainly because enduring politics meant spending time with soft, civilian ass-wipes who made their paychecks on their asses. A bit like sluts really, making money on their backs. Some made money on their knees, and she left that one up to mental interpretation, and some again made money by killing stuff.

Herself, she preferred to view her job as "making money on her ass, while planning how others would make money killing stuff". Really, it wasn't all that complicated. Though the paycheck _was_ nice. And thank God for that, actually, seeing how her projects would have been impossible otherwise. Fucking Prime minister and whatever PR-stunt he pulled when he robbed her of funds.

_Sure, let's give Anna Fisher's warship-funding to charity. I'm sure the Reapers will spare the UN-constructed schools when they arrive, and we don't have enough Dreadnoughts to kick them back into dark space _

Yep. Because that would totally happen. Right now though, she had other worries than the Prime minister. The Quarian representative for Rannoch, though still mainly on paper, had just been instated in Parliament. His name was… was…_ What the fuck was the guy's name again?_

Shit. She couldn't remember the guy's name. Well, this was going to get _extremely_ awkward. From the sounds coming from the inside of the atrium, the sound of stools scraping, feet walking on that ghastly green carpet, the session was adjourned. Shit. She was supposed to meet with the guy after this session. And to add to the struggle, there was a Citadel representative, some stiff-neck probably, coming in to meet with the Alliance. And since the Prime minister had, very politely, declined, the meeting was shifted to the "Hero of the Citadel."

Well, turned out Oleg wasn't in the mood for a meeting with someone from the Citadel. For some reason, the poor bastard had been branded with the title of "Hero of the Citadel", because he'd saved the Council. Anna couldn't conceal the smug grin that brought out. It was the Council's petty way of getting out of recognizing her. By naming Oleg the hero, they made sure the Alliance was named the saviors, but also made sure it was a man hated by the Turians for his tactics during the First Contact War. And, since a lot of the big heads in Citadel Space were Turians, no one would really start rolling out the carpets for the old Russian, for fear of angering the biggest military in the Galaxy. Officially, the biggest anyway.

So, when the Hero of the Citadel didn't want a meeting either, the third-most desirable, again with quotations about "desirable", choice was her. Apparently, castrating slavers, accepting the Quarians and openly researching artificial intelligence, made for a lot of people who didn't like the Alliance. And, since most of that had been orchestrated by her, a lot of the dislike fell on Anna's shoulders.

"Price?" She pressed a finger to her ear; "Name of that Quarian representative?"

"_Fatso'Mak vas Tonbey nar Filotena. Forty-nine years old, family is deceased wife and a son. Both currently live on Arcturus_." The AI said. Anna huffed, nodding as the doors opened. How did people ever get by without AI-assistants?

"Just his name would be fine next time, you know." She said as the first politicians started coming out. Amazing really, that so many people were needed for an instatement. Why not just drag in the ones important, and leave the rest of the fat, stuffed suits sleeping on their couches, or screwing their blonde girlfriends in their expensive spa?

"_You know, I've been giving the whole "Genophage" thing some thought."_

"I'm all ears."

"_You sure you want to mess around with that? The Krogan were the aggressors in the Rebellions, you know."_

"And the Germans started World War Two. We didn't bio-bomb them back to the stone-age. The Russians started World War Three, we didn't bomb them back to the bronze-age. The Chinese… You get the point." Anna counted off on her fingers. Price gave an affirmative 'hmmm' in her ear.

"_Right."_

"Admiral Fisher?" A filtered voice caught her attention. Somehow, she'd turned away from the doors as she'd talked to Price, resulting in her not noticing when her target emerged from the atrium. Shit. This was a great start. She turned on the balls of her heels, coming face to visor with a Quarian wearing a yellow, green-splotched suit.

"Representative Fatso'Mak vas Tonbey nar Filotena?" Oh God the _name_. It was nearly impossible for her _not_ to mentally shout 'Fat-Soooo' in her mind. Good thing it stayed here. The Quarian nodded as she extended a hand towards him; "Anna Fisher. Good to meet you."

"Likewise, Admiral." Fatso'Mak said, grasping her hand. Three fingers. She'd never been able to get used to shake hands with people with three fingers. Just seemed wrong, somehow. He gestured for the hallway; "Shall we?"

"Gladly." Anna gave an easy smile and started off down the hallway, an easy, relaxed pace next to the Quarian; "So, how does it feel being the first real representative for your entire species in more than three hundred years?"

"Honestly?" Fatso asked; "It's a bit overwhelming. I was next in line for captaining the Tonbey, so I always knew I'd have a certain amount of responsibility. Lives depending on me. But… there's a stark difference between captaining a ship of a couple thousand people, and representing your entire species in the Alliance."

"Too much for you, is it?" Anna said, raising an eyebrow. Fatso looked at her for a long moment, his faceplate transparent enough that she could see his brows, or whatever those black marks above his eyes were, furrow.

"I did not say that. I'll just not mourn the day more join me." He sighed and looked ahead as they walked; "It's strange, walking around like this."

"How so?" Anna mused, giving the Quarian an amused side-ways glance. He gave a meek gesture towards their surroundings.

"When I was born, my people was more or less resented by the galaxy as a whole. The Turians chased us off at every opportunity. The Asari ignored us. The Salarians either ignored us or wanted to make sure we never tried making new AI's… Life wasn't… exactly easy." Fatso sighed, a bit of mournful tone to his voice.

"What about humanity?" Anna was pretty sure Humanity hadn't just ignored what was the truest case of a humanitarian crisis one could come by these days. Then again…

"You species hadn't really stepped into the spotlight back then, Admiral. Also, we didn't make any real contact with the Alliance until Twenty-One eighty." Fatso'Mak explained; "An ever since we made contact, you have been one of the most prominent defenders of my people."

"I just hate racism." Anna shrugged; "Humanity didn't finally shed it on our homeworld only to apply it to the new guys. Others would have done the same."

Fatso huffed, a bit amused if she could tell right. So far, he didn't seem like the stuffed, pompous type she'd expected. Then again, what Quarian high-ups she had met could be counted on a hand. People just were diverse, like humans. Oddly enough though, it seemed like most aliens only had one or two state of minds.

The Turians were either militaristic or lax. The Asari were either incredibly wild, incredibly horny or incredibly diplomatic, in that order. The Salarians… either they had a Nazi-like view on sentient life, thinking everything was fair game for experiments, or they were sneaky bastards who tried winning their wars before they started them. Fucking cowards is what they were.

"But yours was the first voice to speak up for our people." Fatso pressed as they turned a corner. Several servicemen stopped and saluted; "I suspect that if it hadn't been for you, Admiral, my people would still be flying around in the Migrant Fleet, scavenging planets and asteroids to get by."

"Alright, I get it. I'm super awesome." Anna resigned with a small smile; "Now, you are aware of the Council representative coming here?" It was fairly evident with how Fatso's shoulders tightened, that yes, he was indeed aware.

"I am. Though personally I would like nothing more than to never see a Citadel representative again, I realize the importance of maintaining ties." Anna nodded;

"So you approve of us separating from the Council as much as we did?" She asked, looking for cues to his emotions on that one. Fatso nodded;

"A friend of mine, a Volus, was nearby when you punched Councilor Tevos." He gave a small chuckle. It came out like a man laughing trough one of those creepy-as-fuck baby radios; "He recorded the scene and sent it to me. We, we had quite a bit of fun on the Tonbey, watching that."

"Huh. It's not _that_ long ago. You moved here recently?" She asked, nodding to Colonel Kun as he passed by them, a brown lunch-pack in one hand, and a…Quarian woman, in the other? _Well… that's definitely unexpected. _

"I did. An infection took Nia, my bond-mate, a month ago…I decided I didn't want to raise my son on a ship that killed his mother." Fatso's voice broke a little, completely changing the way he carried himself. Anna frowned, understanding the pain his voice carried. She'd been there when Meghan and Uncle got the news about Mindoir, she knew what went on.

"I see. Well, hopefully we can go drink on that never being a threat again." Anna gave the man a, honest to God, pat on the back; "Just need to get that done before that Council-person gets here."

"True." Fatso nodded, taking a calming breath; "I assume there are set plans for the meeting?"

"My assistant keeps track of the schedule." Anna answered. As she continued, she observed Fatso; "But one of the topics will be the use of artificial intelligence."

"I see." His voice was more neutral now. An old-school, then, but with a capacity for change. Hopefully. Otherwise awkward times were ahead.

"I understand that it's still a sore topic with many." Anna tried to get some more gauge on him.

"Koris is on Rannoch. Honestly, it would be stupid to attempt provoking the geth now." While that wasn't exactly the answer she had hoped for, Anna took it as the best she could get. Price was invaluable, no doubt there. He filled the role of assistant for her, helped Cole, provided unmatched cyber-security and even had the time to help out in the dry-docks too. AI's were just awesome.

"We'll be going over the new hardsuits too." Anna noted; "Your technicians really seem to have come through on this one."

"It would seem so, yes." Fatso'Mak nodded. Anna sighed, more or less in regard to the impending meeting with some unknown stiff-neck from the Citadel or, oh joy, someone from Thessia. Yeah, it would probably be someone from Thessia.

_Yay me…_

"I take it Admiral Zorah won't be joining us." Fatso said with a hint of disappointment; "I understand his reasons though."

"Oh he will be joining us, actually." Anna gave a small nod to a passing member of the 'Hammer of Vengeance's bridge-crew.

"But, I thought he was supporting his daughter?" Fatso said with mild disbelief. Anna shook her head, though she understood why the Quarian had thought that.

"Admiral Raan is currently with her. I understand the admiral's bond with deceased John'Shepard was close, so maybe they are sharing the grief." Anna said as they rounded a corner, coming into view of the door to her office.

"I see." The Quarian muttered, glancing around; "Since the improvements are of Quarian design, will the next series of hardsuits include the functions currently within the capabilities of our suits?"

Anna palmed the interface for her door, giving the Representative a nod; "They will. Now come one, I have some dextro wine lying around somewhere."

* * *

MSV Ishimura, Cygnus-System.

Shuttle-bay 4, Crew deck.

20:51

"Daniels, duck!" Jane yelled. The woman obeyed without pause, and Jane's biotic throw went inches above her blond-ish head, smearing the flailing undead all over the wall. There was no time for thanks though, as the mutated fucker that had been stalking them for more than an hour, jumped from a vent on the nearby wall.

"Why the hell won't that thing give up!?" McNeil yelled, blasting the monster square in the chest with a superheated beam of plasma. It stumbled back, shaking, but otherwise unharmed; "Oh come the _fuck_ on!"

"Shoot the legs!" Kendra yelled, firing her plasma-cutter into the legs of the Hunter, as the insane Mercer had dubbed it. The leg came off with a snap, like breaking an insect. Jane pressed on that by blue-shifting in the mutant's face, then slammed a biotic warp downwards. The head exploded in a shower of slush and organic matter. She instantly had to leap upwards, biotically empowered, as the Hunter swiped at her.

As she hung in the air, Nathan McNeil, an officer from the colony, directed two blasts into the Hunter, scorching off both arms. Jane landed with a back-flip, more or less gracefully. Grace wasn't really what she went for, so crudeness was allowed for. Honestly, she couldn't really care less. Her life had been ripped apart so many times now that it started looking like joke. Magnus. Garrus. Kaidan. Every time she started bonding with someone, the galaxy took them away.

She'd let that anger, that frustration and desperation loose on the bridge. She had massacred the Uniotologist crew first, and then she'd left the survivors in her own personal blood-bath. The image stuck to her mind, seared on her brain where it shared the space with the colony on Torfan.

The rest were probably all dead by now.

And she honestly didn't care.

"Nathan! Get in the- who the-" a man shouted from the opening of the shuttle. He trailed off when he seemed to notice Jane and Kendra. Jane looked back, as Kendra was already moving towards the shuttle. Her weapon was depleted, so Jane didn't blame the woman.

"You heard him! Get moving!" Jane barked, sent the twitching Hunter skidding along the floor with a biotic kick, and turned to the one-armed officer; "I'll cover you."

That sentence did carry some weight, as more mutated infants started crawling from the vents. Spines flew through the air. Jane glowed, whipping up a biotic field to catch, then return to sender the organic projectiles. God, they were hideous. There had to be a certain place in Hell reserved to those using infants as weapons.

"Shepard! Come on!" Kendra yelled from the hatch. Jane nodded and flung out a last wave of biotic power. The Hunter came around the corner at the same moment, with just legs and head regenerated. The wave swept it off its feet, resulting in a vicious snarl being the only thing to reach her, as Jane followed Kendra into the shuttle.

Inside, Kendra slammed the hatch shut not a moment after Jane had entered.

"Get us out of here!" Daniels yelled as the hatch sealed shut. Jane slumped down on the seat next to a brunette wearing some sort of medicinal uniform, the kind that seemed standard for crew on the ship. Jane didn't pay her any further attention. She was exhausted beyond limits.

"Shit, Nathan, your arm!" A male voice exclaimed. Jane didn't bother looking to see who was speaking.

"Nothing. Bleeding's stopped. I'm fine." McNeil panted. Fine, bullshit. The man had been seeing things just about all the time Jane and Kendra had spent with him. And he'd lost an arm. No way he was "fine". Jane knew, because she was more or less the same. Magnus, and suddenly Kaidan as well had followed her from the bridge. Things had gotten nearly ridiculous when two men she knew weren't there, started arguing over her.

God, she was tired. But she couldn't sleep. Not yet. Not now. She forced her eyes open, ignoring the woman kneeling next to McNeil in favor for Daniels. The latter was currently resting her head in her hands.

"Daniels. Contact the team?" she muttered, eyes slipping between open and closed. Never on any other mission had she ever used her biotics _this_ much. Her amp felt like it was ready to burn through her skin.

"Right, Shepard." The woman breathed, getting up from her seat. She left for the cockpit, leaving Jane alone with that other woman. God, she just wanted to hear from her team and then go to sleep. Screw the Ishimura, everyone on it were probably dead already. The Alliance could turn it into a scrapheap, and the Admiral could fire her if she was pissed about the minerals. Jane didn't give a shit. She'd stopped giving a shit about the mission when Kaidan died.

After some time, most of it spent listening to that other woman working on McNeil, Jane heard Kendra stepping back into the room. Jane opened her weary eyes and looked at the woman, expecting a report.

"The Kellion is waiting for us, I've already made sure Mr. Weller knows where to go. In addition to Lieutenant Alenko…"

Jane could feel her body stop;

"Security-officers Cheng and Johnston were killed in action." Jane's body loosened up a little. She hadn't known those two. They hadn't been part of her crew. Cold as it might be, she was relieved.

"Good…good…" she mumbled; "Anything else?"

"Gunnery Chief Williams apparently started displaying signs of being affected by the "Marker" when they reached the Kellion." Oh fuck no. Not Williams now. Jane felt a love/hate connection to the woman, especially because some of her first hallucinations had included the Ashley she had left for dead on Virmire; "She snapped out of it, and recognized it as not being real though."

Oh, God. That was a relief, if anything.

Feeling content now that her team was alive, those who were left that was. Kaidan was dead, his mangled body probably being used for some sick purpose right now. The thought made her want to vomit.

"How long?" She whispered, feeling too drained for anything else. Relief was mixed with the crushing grief over Kaidan's death, making her breathing troubled and her heart-rate too fast. It caused her chest to pain from the immense stress.

"Not too long. Half an hour, I think." Daniels said; "They exited the ship on the opposite side, but the Kellion took a beating when we docked. I suggest we fill everyone onto the shuttle here."

"Fine…" Jane bumped her head back against the seat; "Tell me if something happens."

"Yes, Shepard." Daniels said with a nod to her voice. Odd way of putting it, but Jane was exhausted enough that she really didn't care. She forced one eye open, glancing at Nathan where he was currently resting. The girl had stopped working on him, leaving him with an arm-stump smeared in a shell of Medigel. The usual smell of antiseptics wafted through the small compartment.

And of course, the girl dumped herself down next to Jane. She didn't mind, that much, if the girl would just keep quiet. But of course, not a minute passed before the girl started speaking. Jane's headache stared pulsating again.

"Your armor. You're with the Alliance military?" The question was meek and sort of cautious. Just like the girl seemed to be, in spite of the blood covering a few places of her clothes. Jane moved her weary right eye to glance at the girl's face. Cuts and bruises decorated her face, and her hair was bundled and tangled with dried blood and muck. She gave a weak nod;

"Captain Shepard, Alliance Navy." She sighed as she closed her eyes and rested her head back. She could hear McNeil's ragged breathing coming from close by. Asleep, from the sound of it.

"Lexine Murdoch. I worked in the colony, before…" Her voice nearly broke. Right. Civilians weren't used to seeing dead people.

"Right…" Jane nodded. She was too tired for this, and wished Murdoch would just leave her alone. Why was it suddenly illegal to sleep?

"Did the Alliance come to rescue us? You're the first soldier I've seen so far, and everyone just died so fast and… God, how… could this even…" Lexine trailed off. Good. Maybe there would be sleeping now; "I mean, are there more of you?"

Apparently, sleeping wasn't allowed.

"Yes…" She sighed, trying to make it clear she was tired. Murdoch seemed like the adrenaline was still pumping though; "Six others."

"Oh… so, you… didn't come here in a warship to save us?" Murdoch asked with a small voice. Jane groaned. Murdoch might be a civilian, and she might have been through a nightmare, but would it _kill_ her to give Jane a break?

"No. we didn't come to save anyone. We came to fix the fucking comms. Now let me sleep." She growled. Murdoch looked hurt, and slightly offended.

"But-"

"Shut. Up. Unless you see an undead in here, shut the flying _fuck_ up and let me sleep." She snapped at the younger woman. Murdoch scooted a bit away and nodded, _finally_ keeping her mouth shut. Civilians. There was a reason career-soldiers didn't do well with civilians.

Sleep. God, she loved the prospect of sleep.

"Shepard?" Daniels' voice ripped her from the warm embrace of sleep and the darkness; "We're aligning with the Kellion now."

Jane stretched and suppressed a yawn as she looked around. McNeil was still sleeping in his seat, Murdoch apparently having applied a new dose of Medigel to the man's arm. He looked more peaceful like that, sleeping with less blood. The guy was apparently quite the persistent man, having fought some large spiderlike creature on the hull of the Ishimura before managing to shut down a cannon that would let the shuttle leave. Apparently, policemen came tough these days.

There was a shudder as the shuttle locked tubes with the Kellion. Really, it was a miracle that the small frigate had even been capable of flying with the damage it had taken. Aquila had probably had something to do with making sure the thing held together. Right. Better get standing before the crew boarded.

As she got to her feet, the man piloting the shuttle came to stand in the doorway. He was more or less her age, but with a few grey stains in his hair. Probably aged prematurely with all the horrors going on. He was wearing a dark hardsuit, a model before the phase-II's. Security force, but not like the people on the Ishimura. Colony security?

"Captain Shepard? Gabriel Weller, P-Sec." He extended a hand. Jane looked at it, and took it after a few moments of contemplation. Seeing how the system of Cygnus system was illegal to traverse, let alone _settle_ in, Weller was technically a criminal. So were Murdoch and McNeil, actually.

The hatch to the docking-tube opened with a hiss, admitting the people from the Kellion to enter. Clarke, being the N7, was first through, greeting Jane with a nod. Next came Williams, looking more or less unsteady with her helmet held in one hand, and the other rubbing her temples. She didn't look all that great. Fisher, of course, was right behind her. As the rest of the crew filed in, Jane felt the stinging pain at seeing Kaidan missing. It hadn't seemed real until now, when he wasn't there. _So… he's really gone. Just gone. Lost him twice now, nothing to burry…_

She sucked in her breath and put on a stone face. She had to remain calm and professional in front of her crew. Vincent and Pendleton were there too, with the latter bowing his head a little to fit inside.

"Status of the Kellion?" She asked Clarke, seeing how Ashely didn't seem in the mood for opening her mouth.

"The FTL-drive is busted. We have the thrusters, but anything above zero-point-two miles a second is out of question. The Kellion isn't leaving this system for the next ten years." Clarke did a small shrug, which was odd-looking when he was still wearing his suit of armor; "Also we can't get contact beyond the Relay."

"The comm-buoys have been out of order for more than thirty years." Weller explained; "Never had contact with anyone outside the system."

"Which once again presses on the fact that no one was supposed to even be here, let alone _live_ here." Daniels muttered in an angry tone; "For fuck's sake, there's a _reason_ this place is constricted!"

"I went where there was work." Weller shot back; "I didn't even know the system was prohibited. There was a _colony_ here, okay?"

"Doesn't matter. We still need to get back to Arcturus." Jane said; "I still don't know how this "Marker" could do all this. The fragments from Sovereign didn't cause anything like this Hell."

"Because this wasn't Nazara." A geth platform walked through the tube, sealing it behind it. Weller and Murdoch stared with wide eyes at Roku, as the green-painted construct made its way through the group.

"…is that…" Murdoch started. She ended up silent and closed her mouth instead.

"Roku. A little more explanation? I'm not in the mood for mystical bullshit right now." Jane sent the possessed platform a flat stare.

"Nazara was the vanguard. This was the work of Rho." Roku said, causing Jane to blanch. There were _more_ of those supernatural fuckers around?

"Rho?" Fisher asked, his voice carrying both disbelief and shock; "Oh _fuck._"

"Weller, get us to the Relay. Murdoch, you join him. _Now_." Jane ordered. The girl gave a meek nod and followed the P-Sec into the cockpit. Jane locked the door from the outside, effectively giving them some space from the potential criminals. She didn't care if Vincent or Pendleton heard anything at this point. They'd seen Fisher on fire and Tequila doing her thing. They'd already seen more than they were supposed to; "Okay…Okay. _What_ exactly happened with this "Rho"?"

"Fallen Aspect. Enjoys twisting death for his own benefits." Roku explained. The two officers with them stared like they thought they had gone mad. Of course, both being more or less covered in blood and grime, she didn't blame them; "Overall, not a nice presence. I dropped the Marker from orbit, by the way."

"You…did _what_?" Vincent exclaimed; "An object that size dropped from orbit… the Ishimura was still above the colony!"

"Rho had already turned the entire colony. I put a stop to the infection." Roku's voice was, as usual, booming and sage-like. Jane was merely beyond bothering to find it annoying. He turned the flashlight-like eye towards the rest of the group; "I created the hull-breach when I burned through the hull."

"Can someone _please_ tell me what the fuck is going on?" Vincent exclaimed, a vein pulsing in her temple; "The colony kills itself. Psychos turn into monsters, I get soldiers who breathe fire and rip the walls down. And now "Aspects" and I don't know what the fuck's going on anymore."

Hillary shrugged, one arm in a sling; "That kind of things tend to happen with us."

Jane slumped back down on the seat, resting her head. The rest of the crew more or less followed her example, all looking just as exhausted as her. The only actual exception was Boss, who remained standing. His brown eyes scanned the people arranged either on the floor or on the seats. Maybe he just lacked the thing in his brain that made him disturbed by nightmarish experiences. He hadn't seemed faced after Garrus' death either. Was he just a cold bastard?

"If this was the "easy" mission, Captain. I don't look forward to a hard one." Jane blinked. There was a small, sad smile on his Maori face, as if he had attempted a joke. Then it was replaced with a frown; "Did we at least achieve what we came for?"

"…No. No, we didn't. Mathius died, and the comms never got back online." Jane sighed, rubbing her forehead; "We're getting back to the Alliance, then they'll have to decide what to do with that floating nightmare."

There were murmurs of agreement, as the crew settled into the seats, and Jane wiped a hand over her face. When she looked at it, a lot of the hand was covered in fresh blood. She gave a small sigh and leaned back with closed eyes.

Silence dominated the shuttle until they hit the Relay, half an hour later.

* * *

January 8th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Hangar D-11, Military sector.

19:02

Admiral Anna Fisher stood, stoic and with her hands clasped behind her back, in the center of the gargantum hangar as she watched the civilian shuttle, about half the size of the Normandy, settle down on the hangar floor. Pneumatic hisses accompanied the legs of the craft touching down on the floor, acting as stabilizers while the hatches of the vessel opened slowly.

When a man by the name of Gabriel Weller had contacted her, saying he was one of the "survivors" of Ishimura, she had first thought it was a joke. Then Shepard had come online and told the whole story. Fuck, what a nightmare. And she'd sent her own brother into it.

Medicinal personnel was gathered behind her, ready to rush the shuttle as soon as it started pouring passengers. Shepard reported wounded, so Anna took no chances and hauled what personnel she could grab off-duty with her as she'd made her way towards the hangar.

First out was a man wearing the recognizable N7 armor, marking him as Isaac Clarke. He was helping another marine, one of the Normandy's crew, carry an unconscious man down the ramp. Christ on the fucking loo, the man had lost his entire arm, and the stump was covered in Medigel. _Monsters… undead… What the Shitty-Fuck happened out there?_

As more and more piled out, she recognized her brother in the mass. She wasn't sure _how_ she knew it was him, she just did. Thomas was limping, more or less clinging to his place between Williams and that muscled, goofy dork Anna never bothered remember what his name was. Screw it, the medics had already taken off towards the marines. She might as well do the same.

"Thomas." She had to force her tone to sound far less affected than it was, considering the people around. Few even knew of the false story, let alone the real connection between them. As she walked towards her brother in a brisk pace. Before she even got there, people started forming a ring around them as they generally seemed eager not to get too close to her. Good. She didn't want to get close to them either. Thomas was who was important, and no one else.

He turned to look at her. As his helmet came off, his weary, exhausted and utterly _tired_ expression became visible. God, he looked like shit. The way he stood showed his broken leg, and the look in his eyes was one of complete ruin. Feelings in her wanted to just hug the living hell out of him, then tuck him in with a teddy-bear and a cup of hot cocoa.

"…Anna…" The word came out dry and hoarse, like he had spent too much time crying for his throat to take it. Fuck it. She was hugging him, and sod the audience.

* * *

January 11th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Civilian Sector, Franklin Butterfly Gardens.

14:19

Butterflies.

Butterflies, for some reason, were good at invoking a sort of calm. In the days since returning to Arcturus, Thomas had found himself coming to the Butterfly Gardens more and more often. With his leg still mending, there was no way he could train with Roku. And he wasn't really all that sorry about that.

Meditation, on the other hand, he was still too shaken up to attempt. He _had_ tried, just a few hours ago, but when he tried emptying his mind with closed eyes, images of the horrors on the Ishimura kept assaulting him. Images of dead people with flesh and skin being torn, bones reshaping.

He far preferred facing the regular Husks.

Resting his arms on the back of the bench, he leaned back and watched as the butterflies fluttered around in the humid atrium, some of them as big as his hands put together. There was beauty, and oddly enough a certain calm to watching the insects fly around in their own, seemingly clumsy way.

He wanted a break. Not just a break, but something that could actually, honestly be called a vacation. He knew, very well, that being a soldier meant there was no such thing as planning a vacation. Especially not with the Reapers bound to arrive within ten years. Dammit, they could be there in five, even. Yet, he just wanted a break.

There was the plan to visit Ashley's family. It was a thing that scared him a little, even with everything that had happened. Ashley was seeing a psychiatrist right now, on the other side of the street. While Thomas had experienced hallucinations too, Ashley was far more affected by her visions than he was. Right now, he was waiting for her session to end, since apparently he wasn't allowed to be in the room with her during it. Stupid regulations. Apparently there were rules about fraternization that they had just been able to avoid on missions, but people on Arcturus actually followed those shitty rules. Really, what was the point when Ashely needed him? She had nightmares, he suspected. But she didn't seem willing to tell him. It hurt.

"Enjoying your hippie-time?" He turned his head, seeing Hillary dumping herself next to him on the bench. He retracted the arm, preventing the awkward gesture it could become; "I'm guessing you're waiting for her."

"She's in there." He pointed at the office-building across the street.

"So…" Hillary said, clicking her tongue as she rested a leg on top of the other; "How are things?"

"She's having trouble." Thomas bit out, resenting the fact that the sentence was true. Ashley wasn't supposed to have trouble. She always knew how to help him, but the only thing he knew how to do was to hug her, and it didn't help in this case. Gods, he hated being so fucking helpless when Ashley needed him.

One of the worst parts was that she really didn't want to talk about what she had seen. He knew she had seen her dad, but aside from that, Thomas was clueless. Ashley constantly averted the subject or changed it whenever he asked, and it pained him that she wouldn't tell him more. Was it because she didn't think he could handle it? That she thought he didn't care?

"Yeah. Shepard's in some sort'a help too, from what I heard." Hillary said, trying to sound like everything was fine. She did a poor job of it though, and the undertones of worry could be heard in her voice. It seemed like she realized this too, because she sighed and looked away for a moment before speaking; "I'm not… _used_ to seeing the Chief like this. So don't think I came here because I wanted to talk or anything. Because I didn't."

"What's wrong?" Because something was definitely wrong. He could hear, hell _everyone_ would be able to hear something was wrong with her. Hillary made a small sound, like a groan;

"I kept… after we'd been to the bridge, I… kept seeing Ünalan. I… don't know if anyone ever told you, but the two of us were kinda seeing each other and suddenly he was just…" Hillary stopped herself, clenching her fists in her lap; "Shit."

"You too?" Thomas sighed; "Seems like we all saw something… I don't know if… do you- when you close your eyes at night, do you…" he trailed off, unsure if he was being too open. He didn't know Hillary as well as the others, and she has been more or less unpleasant since finding out about his past.

"See the monsters?" she sighed, closing her eyes; "Yeah. I keep seeing this… _thick_, rotten arm just… taking people. Not just the ones we lost, others too."

"Sorry." He really didn't know what else to say. He'd never really been on close-friend terms with the woman. Hell, he didn't even remember how old she was. So, trying to offer support was a difficult thing. Still, they had started out as part of the same squad, as part of the same makeshift family. They had a new family now, odd and mismatched as it often seemed to be.

But it was something.

"For what? You didn't cause the dead to start killing everyone. Roku said that was Rho." She blew ahead as a butterfly mistook her nose for a branch. The insect tumbled through the air before regaining its flight, then fluttered on like nothing was wrong.

"I… it seemed like the thing people say…" he muttered. Hillary looked at him funny, then snorted in amusement. Thomas glanced at her, kind of annoyed; "What?"

"For-… You know, I _think_ I get why the Chief fell for you." The private mused, not looking at him; "You've got that special goody-goody thing about you."

Both brows shot up in surprise. Mostly because he had never been called 'goody -goody' before, not even back home. Well… _especially_ back home. Biochemistry-nerds didn't get to be called that. And honestly, he was _goody-goody_? Had Hillary somehow failed to notice the whole 'light-on-fire-and-kill-stuff' thing he had going on at missions?

Of course. She had been hospitalized through pretty much the entire Saren-campaign. Still, she had been there on the Citadel. If anything she should have a little respect for his powers after- _oh who the fuck am I kidding?_

"And _what_ exactly do you mean by that?" He said in an annoyed aside to the woman. Hillary leaned back and chuckled, like there had been something funny to his question;

"Just, you know, you get so fucking flustered sometimes, it's kinda like a child." She grinned, then breathed deeply with a more calm smile; "Ah. I needed this."

"What, making fun of my boyfriend?" Ashley's voice suddenly came from behind. Thomas almost jumped from the bench, while Hillary just laughed again. She grinned and looked up at Ashley, the Chief sending the private an admonishing look.

"Nah, just the garden-visit." Hillary stretched; "But, making fun of your boyfriend _is_ funny. How'd shrink-time go?"

Ashley moved to their side of the bench, waited for Hillary to shove aside, and slumped down next to Thomas. He felt his heart-rate pick up a bit as she kissed him on the cheek, causing him to shudder with delight. Really, they'd had sex the other night, so this wasn't unexpected. Still, the gesture itself was the best part. Sort of. Best part really was that she loved him. Ashley sighed and rested her head back on Thomas' arm, using him as a pillow before speaking;

"I felt like she just nodded away." She muttered in an irritated tone; "God, _how_ do you make someone get that an evil ship made your dead dad try coercing you into jumping a ledge?"

"Well, technically it was the Artifact." Hillary mused, picking a canned cider from her pockets; "I mean, the ship itself was just for mining. Wasn't until they picked up that Reaper-thing that shit went through the rectum, up into the air and hit the fan."

"Same thing."

"Not really."

"Hill…" Ashley's low voice made the private give a fake, toothy smile as she waved the Chief off.

"Right, right. Totally the same thing." Hillary resigned, taking a drink from the cider; "So. What's next?"

"Well…" Ashley's voice held a little embarrassment; "Actually, Thomas and I planned on taking a trip to Earth soon."

"Room for a hijacker?" Hillary asked over the top of her beverage. It was just the combination of awkwardness and funny, and Thomas failed to suppress a chuckle.

"Don't think so, sorry." Ashley said, a bit sheepish. Hillary's eyes narrowed in thought, then slowly widened in what seemed like realization.

"Ah, I see." She said with a grin, her voice a little teasing as she smirked at Ashley; "And you've been dating for what, four months? Bit fast to meet the family, ain't it?"

"What, you disapprove of a friendly visit?" Thomas hid his own anxiety on the subject behind a snide smile. Hillary shrugged, returning the smile completely;

"Nope. Just that I was in the room when the Chief got the call from her sis. Turned out the matriarch hadn't approved of, was it Sarah's boyfriend?" She tipped her cider at Ashley.

"Hers too." Ashley sighed. She placed her hand on Thomas', giving it a gentle squeeze; "But she'll like you. I know she will."

"Yeah, I bet she associates scars with 'nice guy' the moment she sees him." Hillary grinned before taking a new sip; "Seriously. If things go to shit, make sure you record it."

"You really have no decency at all, do you?" Thomas muttered wearily, resting his head on the side as he gave the private a tired look. Hillary smiled smugly;

"Well, that's what you get for receiving the same upbringing as Jeff." She shrugged; "I skipped out on the glass-bones though."

Thomas blinked. He stared at her. Then he blinked again. Had his brain just stopped working, or had he actually understood the words leaving her mouth just now? _Gotta be a brain-meltdown…_

"What?" Hillary said, lowering her alcohol as she noticed his gawking stare.

"You're talking about Joker?" Thomas still stared.

"Yeah?"

"_Our_ pilot?"

"Only Jeff I know." Hillary shrugged and went back to her can. When it seemingly turned out to be empty, she hauled a new one from her pocket.

"You _grew up_ with Jo- Jeff?" He wasn't even sure if he should be yelling in surprise, or whispering like it was some sort of secret. Because holy shit. Hillary just looked at him funny;

"I'd kinda say so. What, the Crippled shitstain never told?"

"I have no idea _what_ he hasn't told. Getting some vibes, but…" Thomas muttered.

Hillary broke into laughter;

"Oh God! Oh, that's rich!" She took a fresh sip before pointing the cider at him; "That's why he always ignored me on the ship." Thomas almost wanted to point out that she hadn't been _on_ the ship for very long.

"Point?" He said irritably. Hillary spread her arms out;

"I'm his _sister_." She chuckled; "You really don't see the resemblance?"

"I…" Thomas started. He looked, really looked at her, trying to see a resemblance. Joker was somewhere near the thirties, right? Hillary was somewhere near or around his own age. Probably. Joker had dark hair, hers was blonde. Like, _really_ blonde. He sat back; "I don't see it."

"Yeah well, okay. _Half_-sister then." Hillary blew a huff as her expression grew more serious; "Spent childhood on Tiptree, then dad suddenly showed up and dragged me to Chicago. You've probably noticed I tend to… swear, a little."

"I… Hill, I had no idea…" Ashley muttered, causing Thomas' eyes to widen even more. Ashley _hadn't known_? Well, there was something new to learn every day, wasn't there? He had thought she knew everything about the old team, _their_ old team. And yet, wrong.

"Yeah, the name-thing tends to do that." Hillary relaxed, draining her second cider. It suddenly struck Thomas that he hadn't seen her ever drink before the Ishimura. Was it a new thing? "But hey, the jerk-off more or less ignored me all the time, so how'd you ever know?"

He really didn't have an answer to that.

* * *

**Yeap**

**That was a bit longer than usual, but you Guys try staying on a farm with zero wifi. So instead, I have been working nearly non-stop. More to come soon.**


	16. R&R

**Yep. I know. Waaaaaaay too slow rate of updates. Well, I don't really have any internet here, like I said, so all my updates are launched when I get a chance to visit the local library. Annoying as heck, but what cn you do?**

**Okay, so a chill-chapter for the crew before we head back into the fray. Something long-coming is finally here. Gods know I have been looking forward to this part of the story, and with the crew getting some R&amp;R Down, this is when it finally happens Guys! **

**Meet the Mother!**

* * *

**R&amp;R**

* * *

Earth, Sol system

London, England

Something that never failed to amuse Thomas was that even today, with flying cars, space-ships and artificial intelligence, most transport in London was still handled by the big, red busses. Of course, the cabs had been made into odd, flying versions of the same. It felt odd, sitting in wheel-less taxi, flying a few inches above ground. It felt… excessive.

Of course, whatever oddness he felt about their current method of transportation was completely overruled by the mounting anxiety in his body. Gods, he was going to meet Ashley's family. He was going to meet _her mother_! Oh gods, oh gods. Oh gods from whatever they were from! He was going to meet her mother!

"So… London's kinda big." He said, trying to force his voice into a normal tone. The taxi felt kinda small. Was it getting smaller in there?

"Yeah. Biggest city in Europe. Huh." Ashley said, looking kinda like she wasn't as confident as she usually was.

Wait, was _she_ nervous? This was her mother, she shouldn't have to be nervous. _Ashely. Ashley doesn't have to be nervous. Why would her mother be nervous? Why would anyone be nervous? It's just stopping by, say hi and meet the family._

And then it would be fleeing the fuck out of the Solar system. Leaving the planet alone wouldn't be enough. Ashley's mother was bloody Peruvian. There'd be Hell of Ragnarokish proportions if he messed this up.

_I'm going to mess this up, aren't I?_

"I… So, what… when we get there…" He tried formulating an actual sentence. Fucking perfect timing for his ten-year long gone stumbling speech to resurface; "What do I… I don't remember their names…"

"Nervous?" Ashley said, leaning against his shoulder. She put a hand on his cheek, gently stroking his clean-shaven face. Both were in just about the best civilian attires they owned, which for Thomas meant a leather jacket, black jeans and new, black shoes. For Ashley it meant a blue leather-jacket that fit closely over her body and ended in a short skirt just above her knees, where white pants continued beneath before ending in short-heeled boots.

"More like ready to shit myself." He muttered with a strained grin, then paled; "Please don't tell them I said that."

"Oh, I won't." Ashley laughed softly; "Okay, so Sarah's the youngest. She's brunette, and just as tall as me. Lynn's the second-oldest, and blonde, so that's easy to remember."

"Right. Right." His fingers dug into his legs. Thomas breathed and closed his eyes, trying to imagine being somewhere far, far away. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ to meet Ashley's mother, far from it. Merely, the prospect scared him more than facing down Saren again would; "What do I need to know?"

Ashley put on a focused expression, biting her lip a little while she looked at the roof. There was a little solace in how cute she looked while doing that, with her hair tied up in a thick braid behind her head.

"We're catholic, for one. Not zealous or anything, but we believe in God." Ashley seemed to give him a meaningful look at the last part. He nodded;

"Right. No multi-god talk. Got it." He gave a small smile at that; "Oh _shit_, I was raised protestant."

"So funny." Ashley mock-laughed, gently jabbing his side; "Other than that… maybe brace yourself for some third-degree questioning. Shouldn't be so bad."

For some reason, that didn't do much to calm him down. As the taxi proceeded to leave downtown London, in favor of the suburban districts. The houses got bigger, the gardens became lawns, then small parks. The fact that the houses started becoming something like villas didn't exactly help his nerves either. _Gods, is her family rich?_

Ashley just didn't seem like one to have come from money.

"Alright, this' the place?" The driver asked all of a sudden, causing Thomas' nerves to snap themselves over completely. He nearly jumped in his seat, feeling his heart-rate speed up. _Okay. Okay. Calm. down_ .

The house was a large, old-style villa. It was made out of light-brown bricks with multiple windows on each of the two floors. More than anything, it reminded him of a small-scale model of the Downtown Abbey mansion.

"Yep. Thanks." Ashley said in a chipper tone, swiping her credit-chit. As the driver helped them unload what little baggage they'd brought, Thomas noticed a woman standing on a raised stone-porch by the front door to the house. _Oh Gods- Oh God. That's maybe- she's older than- that's Ashley's mother. _

Was this when he was going to faint?

"Look, that's mom." Ashley pointed.

Apparently it _wasn't_ when he was going to faint. Damn. Unconsciousness sounded tempting right about now.

"Right." He muttered, yanking his duffel-bag over his shoulder. This was going to go _so _wrong, wasn't it?

Ashley more or less just dumped her bag in his arms, then started a full-on sprint towards the older woman on the porch. There was something oddly, and cutely, childlike about the way she wrapped her mother in a bear-hug, lifting her off the ground. Ashley's mother was like an older version of her, with black bangs hanging down over her ears, framing a more tanned face than her daughter's. Jeez, he already sort of felt like an intruder just by walking towards them. Well, at least eye-contact was impossible, due to Ashley's bags blocking his view.

"Who's that coming there, slaving under your bags, Dear?" The older woman asked with a mild smile as Ashley put her back down on the porch.

Oh Gods, his face was heating up already.

"Mother. I would like you to meet Service Chief Thomas Fisher." Ashley's voice was both proud, and held some amount of trepidation too.

"Oh my. A friend from the Normandy?" _Wait. Wait. What?_

Thomas almost dropped the bags out of surprise by Ms. William's words. "Friend"? Oh Gods. This was going to be far, _far_ worse than he had initially feared, wasn't it?

"Actually…I thought Sarah would have told you." Ashley muttered sheepishly. As Thomas gently started placing the bags on the stairs to the porch, Ms. William raised both eyebrows. Thomas could, despite the burning anxiety, see where Ashley's gorgeous brown eyes were from. Her mother had them in an even darker color.

"_Chica_, I don't know everything you girls know. I am not capable of listening in on your thoughts, though it certainly would be nice." Ms. Williams added the last part as more of a mutter to herself. She then, to his great horror, turned to Thomas; "It is so very nice to meet you, Chief Fisher."

Yeah. This was _definitely_ going to be far, _far_ worse. Yep.

Where was the nearest spaceship?

"I- The fee- Likewise, Ms. Williams." Gods, this was just on a decline from the start. Ashley's mother was friendly _now_, but what would happen when she found out who he was? _Why can't there be a Reaper when you need one? At least just an Oculus?_

"Oh, and so polite. Oh but please, do come in Senor Thomas." Ms. Williams insisted, craning her neck as she looked at the open door; "Sarah, _Hija_, why don't you help your sister's colleague with his bags?"

"Whaaaaat?" a young woman called from somewhere inside. Ms. William's eye twitched in a way Thomas was fairly sure wasn't a good sign;

"I said take their bags in!" She more or less yelled, then repeated the same heated order in Spanish, too fast for the translator to pick up. Thomas shivered the barked command, seeing more of a military leader than a mother in the way Ashley's mother verbally dragged a short-haired brunette through the door and onto the porch.

So, that was Sarah. Had Ashley told _her_ what was going on, and then _she_ hadn't told her mother?

Oh. Gods.

Great. So Ms. Williams didn't know he and Ashley had…that they were…

He felt a little like kicking someone.

"Right, Right…Jeez, I was… Wait. Sister's…" Sarah's eyes slowly moved from Ashley, to him. Thomas somehow felt like he was being examined like cattle. Oh, this was definitely the single-most awkward moment in his life so far. Even worse than when Liara had seen his memory of kissing Ashley.

"…Hi." He tried, weakly extending a hand towards her. Then he realized he hadn't offered his hand to their mother, and felt even worse for it.

"You're… but then… _Holy. Shit_." Sarah stammered, looking from him to her mother and sister.

"_No maldecir_ Sarah!" Ms. Williams' voice was strict; "That is no way to greet a guest. Now, please take Ashley and her colleagues' bags"

"But… Oh _Joder_, I didn't…" Sarah's hands went to her mouth, wide eyes moving to Ashley. She, in turn, looked mildly pissed. Likely because _she_ would now be in range for her mother's maternally protective fury when the news came out. _How soon would they send someone after me if I said I needed to use the toilet and just fled?_

"You haven't _told_ her?" Ashley said in a dark tone; "_Sarah_…"

Ashley's mother looked between them, as if trying to figure out what was going on. Her eyes looked to Thomas, filled with confusion. He did the best he could to look as innocent as possible, as well as looking like he neither knew what was going on.

The idea of fleeing before the mother found out, was becoming more and more tempting.

"I didn't think you'd be bringing _him_ here already! Jesus Christo! Ash, it's been like what, half a year"

"I told you almost a month ago!" Ashley groaned.

"What on _Earth_ is going on here?" Ms. Williams exclaimed, throwing her arms out. Her question stopped Ashley and Sarah's speech, and Thomas' breathing. Then, slowly, Ashley turned towards her mother with the most awkward, sheepish and nervous attempt at a smile that he had ever seen plastered on her face.

This would be how he died.

"Mom…" Ashley started, her hands crawling throughout each other.

"Ashley Madeline Williams?" Her mother's tone had changed a bit, her hands expectantly held on her hip.

"I'm just… going to get these in. right?" Sarah didn't wait for an answer, instead hauling the bags in while Ashley was still formulating a response to their mother. Ashley slowly gestured at Thomas, who felt a bit like the barrel of a gun was being pointed at him.

"I would like you to meet Thomas Fisher."

"Have I not already met him?" She asked, looking at Ashley with narrowed eyes.

"I'm…God, why couldn't Sarah just have said something…" Thomas looked at Ashley as she groaned, pressing both palms against her forehead; "We're together. As in, seeing each other romantically."

There. It was said. The news were breached. The dice was cast. The shot fired. The… he couldn't come up with more metaphors. Instead, he watched as Ms. Williams' eyes went from confused, to surprised. They scanned over him again, probably taking in his scars, his synthetic eye, his burns, his short hair. _And there's the examination Hillary mentioned. Gods, this turned out-_

"I see." Ms. Williams said calmly, looking from him to Ashley; "Well then. Come inside and… make yourself at home, yes?"

"Mom…"

But Ashley's mother was silent, guiding them through the hallway, past stairs and into a living-room with a thick, Aztec carpet supporting a table adorned with cups and cans of coffee. No tea. Surprise.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Both did as pretty much ordered, and took seats on the couch, while Ms. Williams took a position in the armchair. She released a long, drawn-out sigh before looking at the couple. Ashley looked downright frightened, something rare in her. Sensing her uncomfortableness, Thomas put his hand on the back of hers, giving it a small squeeze.

"So…" he started, looking up from Ashley's hand to her mother. He trailed off, unsure of how to continue. Those _eyes_. They were so intense, he wasn't sure if she could actually kill people by glaring at them. He didn't feel like testing it out.

"Do you want some coffee?" The question took him aback, but deciding that anything but a yes would be rude, he accepted. Plus, Thomas _liked_ coffee. As both were offered a cup of instant-coffee from the can, Ashley's mother leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table as her hands folded before her face in a contemplative manner. Her eyes settled on him; "How long have you known my daughter, Chief?"

"Ashley and I met on Eden Prime seven months ago, august 1st as of the colony's calendar." Thomas said. Ashley looked at him surprised, maybe because he remembered the date of his arriving on Eden Prime. It was, after all, the start of his new life; "I was the newest addition to the squad, Ashley showed me around, introduced me, trained me…"

"How did you get to serve on the SSV Normandy? I know Ashley was there at the start of hunting Arterius, _le_ _bastardo_."

"I…" Thomas hesitated. This time, it was Ashley's hand to rested on his, urging him onward; "Eden Prime was attacked. We managed to… fight our way out, three of us. We met…when… I hit a rock on our way out, lost consciousness. When I woke up, a Spectre from the Normandy, Nihlus Kryik, and a young Quarian, John'Shepard had saved us."

And just like that, Thomas started retelling the entire campaign, how they had fought, experienced and found love. He left out the parts including supernatural events, either by omission or a mild lie. The lie being he was a biotic. While lying to the mother of the woman he loved should have been ruled out as the option of someone with a drive to live past the day, he didn't see a way to explain some crucial events without the use of L3-X biotics. Meaning, he couldn't demonstrate because using them would give him migraines.

Still, the entire story was told, and while he skipped _very_ lightly over what had happened in the gym-room, the message was passed that they became physically intimate during their fight against Saren. In the end, he finished the story by ending it after the Normandy had been destroyed, leaving out the hellish events on the Ishimura. There was no reason for Ashley to be reminded, or for her mother to know what had happened on that accursed ship.

As the recount ended, Thomas looked at the woman across from him. Ms. Williams leaned back in her chair, taking a small, cultivated sip from her coffee. To kill the silence, he did the same. Ashley scooted a bit closer to him, her fingers interlacing with his under the table. He pressed them to his palm, finding a measure of protection in them.

"The two of you seem to have been on quite the journey." Ms. Williams said, putting down the cup. There was an air of calmness around her, but at the same time there was the sensation like someone holding a match to a keg of gunpowder; "The scar over your left eye."

"A grenade exploded too close to me." This really was feeling like an interrogation; "I lost me left arm as well."

"Was it due to carelessness?" There was something to the woman's tone that started alarm-bells in his mind. Ashley's mother turned her attention to his left arm, like she was trying to find something to dislike about it. Not for the first time, Thomas felt grateful to Emhart that he'd done such a great job on the arm.

He was going to let Ashley decide whether to reveal _her_ leg to her mother.

He briefly considered making something up concerning the scar, seeing how he couldn't hope for much if he said an Asari had held him down after he'd shot her in the face. Then again, mothers could detect lies, couldn't they?

"I was unable to get to safety. There was… one of the artificial Asari held me down."

"I see." And for a long moment, that was all she said. She then nodded and turned to look at Ashley. Thomas suddenly found her fingers to be clenching his much harder; "I want to know, Daughter, what caused you to love this man?"

"Thomas, he… ever since the attack on Eden Prime, he has been there for me, without exception. He has saved my life from situations I cannot… I have faltered more often than I should have, and I would have been dead by now, if not for him." The certainty in her voice made Thomas pale as the blood left his face. He knew, somehow, that there was a chance she was right, but still, to hear her say it like that… It hurt.

"Ash."

"I would have, and you know it. If you hadn't been there on Eden Prime, neither me nor Hillary would be alive. On Feros and Noveria, you can't argue that, Thom." Ashley stated, her voice firm like she was preparing to scold him. She hadn't done that in a while, so there was the possibility.

"You…" he tried, the bit his tongue as he mulled over the scenarios. Damn it all, she was right. But he couldn't explain those, even with biotics; "Okay, so I did a lot of stupid things to get you to safety. Did the same for me too, though."

"Yeah." Ashley admitted with a sigh. She smiled nervously at her mother; "But no really unnecessary risks."

"Is that so?" her mother asked sternly. Thomas swallowed; "I knew it would drain on my nerves the day you joined the military, Ashley…"

"Yeah. Sorry about that. The nerves I mean. Didn't mean to give you worries." She seemed to need to make certain her mother didn't think the apology was for joining the military. As intimidated as Thomas was, he still found it cute, and very much Ash-like; "But we're going steady, right? Nothing's happening faster than we can handle it."

"Are you sure about that?" There was something to the look Ashley was given. Thomas wasn't sure what to make of it. To calm his nerves, he took a small drink of the coffee. Really was a good cup too. Really, it-

"_Yes,_ mom. I'm _not_ getting pregnant." Ashley said, kind of annoyed.

He nearly choked on the coffee. Actually, scratch that. He nearly choked, _and_ he more or less inhaled half the cup, resulting in burns down his throat.

"Well…Good" Ms. Williams started, looking at them both; "so far I am at least more pleased than when Sarah took home that _pendejo_."

She didn't seem to notice him struggling for air.

"You just didn't like Tony because of his job!" Sarah yelled from upstairs; "He wasn't a doofus!"

Gods it hurt with hot coffee down his throat. Was anyone noticing his pains? No?

"Regardless of that." Ms. Williams ignored her daughter's outburst from upstairs; "While it brings me some comfort that someone looks out for my daughter, I want to know something, Thomas Fisher, and I want an honest answer."

He suppressed the tears welling in his eyes, forcing a straight face.

"Oh Mom. Not-" Ashley started. She was interrupted, of course, by her mother.

"What are your intentions with my daughter?" Oh. _That _sort of question. The sort that had far-reaching implications, and the sort he really had no idea how to reply to; "Do you intend to simply keep each other company in war-zones and then deny all responsibilities? Or is this more lasting?"

"Lasting. Definitely lasting." It was a bit funny how he didn't even have to stop and think about that. It was just how he felt about it, and the notion that this, his relationship with Ashley, was just a fling, made his skin crawl in a bad way. When he caught Ashley's look at him, there was something warm and heated in her eyes, though he couldn't identify it.

"Good. Now then, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping while here. I _do_ expect you to stay until Sunday, Daughter."

"Sunday?" Thomas dared asking. He hoped it wasn't offending. Ms. Williams leveled an expectant gaze at him;

"The sermon, of course."

"Of course."

* * *

Earth, Sol system.

The Williams Mansion, London suburbs.

23:09

Sleeping in the same bed wasn't a new thing to them. Sleeping in the same bed, with Ashley' sister in the next room and her mother in another though, was a new thing, and a reason why Thomas had yet to be able to sleep. Usually this would be when he'd crashed and gone dark, but currently he was stuck in the large bed, listening to Ashley's calm, regulated breathing and looking at the white, wooden ceiling.

But honestly? The day had gone better than he'd thought it would, and as he lay there, a smile played on his lips.

* * *

January 23rd

London, England

Cathedral church of St. Paul the Apostle, Ludgate Hill

12:00

There really was only _one_ aspect of the sermon that caused Thomas any trouble. Being Danish, he was used to the songs by Grundtvig and the protestant psalms. A catholic sermon was something new to him, and with it being in England, so were the songs. He didn't know how to sing them.

Another difference was that there was a third to venerate in the ceremony. The Virgin Mary was on par with both Jesus and God on importance to the faith. Odd, in his eyes, but not all _that_ surprising.

He _did_ enjoy the increased spiritual aspect of the ceremony though. Protestant sermons very common, while the catholic priest launched into a long, spirited lecture from the bible. It was surprisingly nice, even if he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the overall sense of commitment in the attendance.

Of course, the thing with the numerous saints to venerate as well, threw him a bit off. He wasn't going to say it, of course, but saints had only been humans. He didn't get why they were more or less revered in the same way as Jesus was. It just felt… off.

* * *

January 24th

The Williams mansion, London suburbs

13:18

The last day of their granted leave, Thomas was asked one of the questions he had feared would come. Part of the issue with having died right after starting university, was that he effectively had no real education. He had a High-School graduation, admittance into biology in the University of Aarhus, but other than that? Nothing.

"Tell me, Thomas. If you hadn't become a soldier, what would you have made a living by doing?" Ms. Williams, or Lucia Williams as her actual name was, asked. Her face and tone were easy, but her eyes betrayed the seriousness she carried.

"I was set up to study biochemistry and biology before I joined the military." He said, politely taking the offered coffee. Lucia nodded, though she didn't seem fully satisfied;

"…and you broke it off. Why? What did your family say to this?" here, he looked down. The truth was the only option here, even if by omission. He and Ashley had already discussed what to say if and when her mother asked about his family. She'd felt lousy for suggesting to lie to her own mother, but believed it the better choice. Thomas had merely agreed, knowing how it felt to disappoint his own family back then.

"My immediate family died. I lost everything in a train-accident. After that, I just couldn't continue studying like nothing had happened." There was a flash of pained sympathy in Lucia's eyes; "It killed me. I had to leave, to find something that actually made sense to me. Looking at bacteria just…I wanted to make a real difference, to _protect_ others. I cant explain it any better, I'm afraid."

"So… your entire family…God." The older woman whispered in disbelief; "But, what about your aunt?"

Anna had come up too, when they'd discussed what to say to what. Again, the truth was actually a possibility here. Immoral as it was, lying by omission was the best choice. Therefore, a combination of the two;

"I met her the first time a few months ago… She had no idea I even existed before that." He muttered, looking into his coffee. Ms. Williams was silent for a while.

"I am sorry. Has Ashley told you what happened to her father?" Thomas looked up slowly, seeing the pained, yet warm expression on her face. That, was not something they had discussed. He looked briefly at Ashley, who nodded and gestured with her head towards her mother.

"My husband, Ashley's father, Alexander Williams, was as you may know an Alliance soldier. He lived with the shame of his father's defeat, but soldiered through it. He was stout, and too stubborn by a half for the officers to ever consider promoting him." Ms. Williams sighed and placed her cup on the floor; "When slavers started attacking human colonies, he wanted to help. He wanted to protect others."

Thomas felt a small stab of pain at the same words he himself had just used.

"He was stationed on Mindoir." Ms. Williams' eyes seemed to glass over. Thomas just held his breath. Mindoir. Why was it that everything seemed to go back to that planet? Jane's family had been killed there. John had been nearly killed when slavers attacked, Anna's niece had been killed by the slavers, and now Ashley's dad. The colony was cursed; "Four years ago, slavers hit the colony. My husband did his best to protect the civilians. He was killed when a frigate hit the colony's control-tower."

Thomas nodded. He didn't know what else to do.

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

The A-Bar, Recreational Sector

20:19

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

The shot went straight down his throat, feeling like flaming gasoline being poured down his windpipe and into his stomach by way of burning through his throat. To the cheers of the nearest drinkers, who then went back to their own business.

Fuck, it felt good.

Nikolai slammed the glass back down on the counter, exhaling a dried-up breath of ethanol. He inhaled and looked at his partner-in-drinking, Teresa. She was all dressed up in casuals that hugged her form and her brown hair had been let loose at some point between the fifth and seventh beer, and the first shots. The dim lighting of the bar made her teeth stand out when she flashed a grin between drinks.

Fuck, she looked good.

It was probably the drinks, and the fact that he was more than likely drunk, but he had an urge to just kiss her. Of course, he wasn't drunk enough to commit suicide, and he knew perfectly well that she had no romantic interest in him. Well shit, wasn't life just a bitch?

"Falling behind, Nick!" She breathed as a new glass was sent to the table. He raised a brow at that, sluggish as the reaction was. She hadn't called him 'Nick' before, had she? Odd. But it also felt kinda nice.

"Knew he couldn't keep up." Hillary burped from her seat on the other side of Teresa. Her blonde hair hung over her face, loose and sweaty from the heavy drinking she had indulged in. Really, she hadn't had that much more than him, but Hillary wasn't a very big woman. Girl. Person. How old _was_ she even?

"I can keep up plenty." He stated with calm confidence, then downed a new shot. Wasn't even sure what it was, only that Hillary, now with her head resting in her hands, had recommended it. An empty glass slid past him, sent there from the last member of their drinking-team.

"Amateurs." Boss scoffed, offering a very rare grin as he led attention to the _mountain_ of empty glasses before him. Nikolai let out a low whistle, impossible to hear over the thundering beat.

"Look who's actually smiling." He grinned at the clone; "Haven't seen that since…Actually, I don't think I've _ever_ seen you smile."

"He smiled when Jenny called him that cutie name." Teresa pointed out. She was suddenly leaning over Nikolai in order to be able to point at Boss' face; "You remember what she called you?"

While Boss suddenly looked a little flustered, Nikolai felt _a lot_ flustered. The way Tequila was leaning over him, standing in the bars of her stool, her bumpy chest, because he _couldn't _say 'breasts' (mental block), were more or less pressed into his face.

Okay. That was either really great, or really bad. Depending on what she'd do if she saw the befuddled grin on his face.

"I don't remember." Boss stated.

"Oh, you do too." Teresa chided, giggling. Okay. She was _giggling._ Clearly, she was more drunk than he. Exploit?

"No I don't."

"And the way you smiled all warm, you're just a big softie." She cooed. From what Nikolai could see that wasn't her shirt, Boss' face had just become a little less composed.

"I am _not_." He declared, promptly taking a new shot as if to defend his manliness. Really, the guy could face-stab Husks and zombies like it was easy, and he felt the need to speak up? Dude, just drink.

"Soooooooftiiiieeeeee…" Hillary cooed along, raising her head from the table. Her forehead had left a sweaty imprint there. Nice...

"What _did_ she call him?" he dared ask. _Dared_, as in dared to speak when his face was pressed into Teresa's side. He _could_ lean backwards, but this was his seat. If she took offense, Teresa would let him know. Also, she smelled nice.

Actually, she almost seemed to lean a little into his face when he spoke. Probably just a lack of motoric coordination from the alcohol.

"Do not say it." Boss ordered, looking up from his shot.

"Why not? It's super cute!" the Hispanic laughed. Boss' eyes narrowed;

"It's unbefitting for a Republic Commando to be called by such a term."

"It's also un… unbefitting to kill Jedi's. See how that turned out if I ever find a Star Wars movie." Tequila huffed, punching the man in the shoulder.

"No soldier of the Republic would ever betray the Jedi." Boss answered all indignantly and annoyed.

"Yeah well." Tequila took a new shot. When she was still hanging over him, Nikolai couldn't get to his own drinks. Not that he really complained at the moment though; "Shit happens…Silly-Boss."

"Sith take you!" Boss growled, attempting to push her back while Hillary laughed her dead-drunken ass off. His attempt at shoving Tequila back led to her colliding fully with Nikolai, which sent them both to the floor with a crash of tumbling chairs;

"Fek. I apologize, Corporal."

"…Ow." Nikolai groaned, seeing as he had landed on the floor _and_ provided cushioning for Tequila; "Really Ow."

"Sorry…" Tequila muttered as she tried getting off him. In her slight tipsiness though, she accidentally palmed him between the legs, causing his entire body to freeze up in utter agony as some fifty-sixty kilos of marine was put on his balls;

"OW!"

Safe to say, Tequila removed her hand rather quickly the moment she realized the same.

"Sorry!" she said again, though this time with more feeling to it. Fair enough, really. She _had_ just crushed his preciouses. Nikolai didn't reply to that, his face contorted in agony and with a silent scream that mouthed '_Whyyyyy_?'

"Oh God!" Hillary sounded like she was choking on her own laughter; "I fucking love you guys."

"The affection is appreciated." Boss replied non-caring. Or, it wasn't that he probably didn't care, just that he preferred that kind of outbursts to be made when sober. Because Hillary was clearly quite drunk. He didn't say more, instead grabbing Tequila by the shoulder before he hauled her back and up, without even looking like it was an effort.

"I don't need your help." Tequila muttered sheepishly; "But the… the…Thanks." She looked like she wasn't all too proud of herself right then and there. Understandable again, in Nikolai's eyes, seeing as he was still on the ground, clutching his man-parts. The thought that Teresa had touched his balls wasn't even _near_ his mind at that moment.

Fuck, it hurt.

"God, that was just…" Hillary more or less trailed off as she failed to help Nikolai up, instead ending up knocking over her own chair; "Shit… Silly-Boss, help our poor Pfc. up, will you?"

"There was _so_ much wrong with that one sentence I am not sure where to start…" Boss muttered, but nonetheless complied and hauled a still groaning Nikolai back into his chair; "Are there no rules about fraternization in your Alliance?"

"Fuck yeah there are." Hillary chuckled as she crawled back onto her own chair, drink already in hand; "But shit, far as I've seen so far, we people don't care about that." She grinned all smug; "I mean, look at Chief Ashley and Zuko."

Nikolai, despite the lingering pain, looked at Hillary and blinked. His brain was stuck on 'loading' as he tried processing the words.

"…Zuko?" Tequila was the first to reply. Hillary's grin just widened;

"Come on! Scar, black hair, all serious and broody when he's firebending? He's _so_ much a Zuko it's not even a joke."

"Firebending?" The Hispanic muttered in mild disbelief. Nikolai remained silent, the conversation being much too interesting for him to bother cutting into, plus he still couldn't feel his right… oh, there it was. Still intact.

"Yeah you know. Like in Avatar."

"You've got to be shitting me…" Tequila muttered. Hillary held her hands up, like in defense;

"Hey, 'was Admiral 'Neuter' who came up with it. Said she hoped for a whole 'Team Avatar' what with you metalbending and all." The young blonde grinned again.

"So what, we just need a waterbender and an airbender?" Nikolai asked. Hillary nodded;

"See? Musclehead gets it." She nodded in approval; "I'd _so_ be the most awesome airbender ever."

"I don't follow." Boss said; "Is this an intern joke I am not included in?"

"Human classics, Silly-Boss." Hillary wiped the drunkard-drool from the corner of her mouth; "Really, try going to a cinema or looking up 'Avatar' on the extranet. I swear, they make biotics look like total pussies."

"And Jedi even more so." Tequila added with a sigh. Boss almost seemed to take offense at that.

"There cannot be a force that outmatches the Jedi." He stated. Tequila poked him in the chest, ruffling his grey Alliance-casuals a little. Boss wasn't one for civilian clothing, so he'd picked an Alliance uniform when he'd been told he couldn't go to the bar wearing Bulwark-armor. Made sense;

"Okay. I am _so_ making you watch some old movies." Tequila stated, almost like an order; "Because when you've seen the _shit_ an Earthbender can do, you'll be all '_Christo_, I agree that the Force cannot match this shit'. Because it can't."

If someone had told Nikolai Tengberg that he would one day be sitting in a bar with a Republic Commando, Corporal Tequila and Ashley Williams' old squad mate, while debating if bending was better than the Force… He wasn't even sure he could see himself reply to that one.

It was just _too_ fucking weird.

"You guys are being totally weird right now." He sighed, looking at his glass; "You know that, right?"

Tequila turned from Boss, who was still looking like he wanted to declare to the world that the Force was unbeatable, to him with an amused expression. He, in turn, looked at her. Huh. She looked like she was actually smiling _warmly_ to him. What gives? Or gave, considering he was more or less thinking in past term. Being tipsy did that.

"You know you love it." The corporal smiled, nudging his shoulder; "Admit it: you'd hate a normal team."

"Yeah…" he admitted with a sigh; "Probably would. Still, I'm a little jealous you got to have Earthbending. Metal, at least. I was like, so freaking ready, and I'm way more buff than you are." He released a new huff and leaned back on the stool; "Still, you're pretty badass, even without bending."

Tequila looked a little surprised at the statement, like she hadn't expected a personal addressing. Her cheeks got all rosy, which Nikolai attributed to the amount of booze she'd poured down.

"Yea well… Comes with being career military and all." She muttered. There was something in her eyes that he couldn't quite discern. Her brown irises moved rapidly between him and the people dancing in the main area of the bar. Back to him; "Okay."

"Okay… what?" he asked, arching a brow. The way she had just looked at him made his heart thumb.

Before he could get more out, Teresa grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Dumbfounded, he was dragged out onto the dance floor. Tequila didn't release him until they were in the middle of it, then started awkwardly dancing in front of him. _Okay… what?_ His mind repeated his previous question. Tequila hadn't said a word when she dragged him out, and he wasn't quite sure what to do. Was he supposed to dance with her?

"Dance, retard!" Hillary hollered from the bar, then grabbed Boss and dragged him with her as well. He looked none too pleased, and verbally protested the action. Hillary didn't seem to give a shit, and they vanished in the crowd. Nikolai looked back at Tequila, who was looking at him like she was waiting for him to dance too. She actually looked damn insecure. Huh.

So, he started dancing too. Tequila visibly loosened up at that, causing him to crack a smile. She actually had something that made her insecure. Who'd have thought?

In the end, even she was just a person. And being a person, she had flaws. It made her who she was, and he lIiked that.

* * *

**The chapter where fluff happened. Yeah, that's about it really. This was meant to be as fluffy as an Icelandic Horse's foal (because I Work with those so I know they iz fluffy :3**

**One reason I spend so much time with "filler" and "fluffy" chapters, is because it is the best way to build characters up. Hillary for one, is not really known, neither is Adrian. Hence why I try to give them some time, plus give Nikolai a chance to score with Teresa. We all know he's held a crush since the early days of hunting Saren. I mean come on; He's big and strong, and Tequila is more or less a semi-earthbender! they iz perfect for each other (with the small bother that Tequila might still view him as a child. Dunno)**

**Alright, please leave your thoughts at the mailbox, door, review-thingy, whatever. I love your input, even if it's criticism.**


	17. Omega Blues

**Okay, sorry about that Little mishap. Accidentally posted the wrong chapter last time, so this is the actual chapter 17. Been a Little stressed recently, so there's that to show for it.**

**I would really like to know how many of my old readers are still out there. I get so few reviews these days, I don't know how many actually read what I write. Not asking for something fancy, just a short 'Heyo I am still reading this' note will do just fine. It would do Wonders for my**** day, too.**

* * *

Omega Blues

* * *

January 24th

Omega, Jayar-district

17:27

"So, this isn't exactly how I planned on spending the day-" Magnus muttered, interrupted when a series of slugs pinged off the corner he was taking cover behind; "-but hey: It's better, so no complaints there."

"What exactly _did_ you have planned for today that wasn't as good as this?" there was a clear warning in Tara's voice came through the comms as her rifle cracked a shot off. She was somewhere above with her Viper, and even before the sound of the shot reached them, an Asari lost a tunnel through her skull, spraying purple and grey behind her. _Damn_, that woman was a crack-shot.

"Personal stuff, mostly." He shrugged, leaned out of the corner and sprayed a covering Salarian. No hits, but it kept the toad down; "been a while since I bloted, so I was thinking I'd better get that part done with. And then I wanted to send Verner some more hate-mail. Other than that, just get some workout done…Why, anything I _should_ have wanted to do, Captain?"

"You know damn well I can't say something on an open channel, Bosh'ted." Tara grumbled as her rifle coughed two slugs out. The first shattered an Eclipse-soldier's shields, the second ripped his throat out as the grain-sized slug found its mark in the weak space between helmet and torso. Magnus whistled while pulling the trigger on his own gun, suppressing the sniper trying to get a bead on Tara.

Not. a. chance, _Cock-skull._

"You know you love it." He grinned, shooting for the Eclipse hiding behind a box. The idiot had his head sticking above cover, and Magnus was polite enough that he warned the man. Said warning was going to be pinned to the corpse on a little yellow note later on. Might as well exploit that the Eclipse had colors matching the little yellow notes, right?

"You're such a man-child." Tara muttered. Magnus just smiled behind his helmet. Was there anything better than going on missions with the woman you loved, find some rival mercs and kill them? Screwing was probably an option, but the cramped space of the Blue Suns compound had actually made him uncomfortable when snuggling with Tara had started almost going a little far. Now, if they _hadn't _been within five meters of other people, he might have allowed the snuggling to take the next step. Still, piss shame that there was nil chance of even _kissing _Tara with how conditions were.

Fucking Omega.

"How about trying to keep your love life between just the two of you, eh Captain?" right. There were others there too. Tuara sounded annoyed that she was being exposed to people discussing romantic things. Well, screw her then. Magnus could discuss whatever he damn well pleased. No Turian was going to tell him what to say or do.

"Olaffur! Shift fire to the biotic on the catwalk!" Okay, so maybe the Turian Sidonis was allowed to order him around. The man held Legionnaire-rank, so he _had_ to followed his orders. Bugger, but he did. Now where was that biotic at? Probably an Asari, seeing how the Eclipse was like ninety percent Asari these days. Magnus missed the old days where the Eclipse still held a majority of humans. _So_ much more annoying to fight mercs with inborn biotics than his own species. Huh. Odd that.

There. An Asari with holographic armor seemed to have a blast of flinging warps and assorted biotic punches at the Blue Suns soldiers pushing through the alley. Shit, she had them in a choke-point. Well, her, and the other Eclipse mercs opposing them behind the cover of raised plates and boxes. Shitheads, really. Didn't they know that the Suns were the better soldiers? They really should just be fleeing.

"Tara, can't you vent her skull?" He asked, trying to get a bead on the annoying Asari. She was more than a hundred meters away, and Magnus didn't have a scope like a certain Quarian did. Long-distance had never been his preferred fights.

"There's an apartment in the way." Came the dead-pan reply. Right, there was. Great. So there wasn't a slug with the Asari's name on it. That meant falling back on his better-than-average marksmanship. In truth, he didn't doubt being able to _hit_ the Asari, he just doubted he could do it enough to actually do some good. Aiming out from cover, he locked the small red dot in his sights on the alien and pulled the trigger. One slug, two slugs, five slugs went towards the biotic before she took notice of him.

"Fuuuuck…" he groaned as a warp seemed to miss his head by an inch at most. He could feel his hair standing inside the helmet, which was probably a bad sign; "That was close."

"ECLIPSE FOREVER!" Someone shouted the usual boast.

"BLUE SUNS!" what was this, a dick-measuring of mercs? Magnus never really bothered with shouting out his allegiances in a fight, unless he wanted to keep down fright by yelling. It had worked in the sewers.

"Die! Die! Die!" A Sun yelled, vaulting over the covers while perforating an Eclipse with his Vindicator. While it was an admittedly cool move, it was also insanely dumb. The man caught a biotic punch in the head before his target had even hit the ground. His head snapped back, and he fell to the ground without a sound. Figures.

Magnus just shook his head at the stupidity of the newcomers to the Suns, petty criminals and poor citizens of Omega who wanted a better life by the handle of a gun, took aim and fired a volley at the Asari again. Even in the distance he could see her snarl through the holographic armor, which just made him grin as he ducked back behind cover. A small piece of graffiti on the corner he hid behind saw some extreme cleaning as a warp carved out a spherical hole in the wall; "Damn, someone's pissed."

"This isn't working! Those who have them, switch to phasic rounds to get through the barriers!" Sidonis ordered over the noise of gunfire. Magnus looked above him as he rummaged his hip-pouches for the ammunition-module, seeing the scared faces of the inhabitants living on the block. Damn, there lived people here?

Of course there did. Duh. Fishing up the module, he cracked the chamber on his rifle open and yanked out the disrupter-module he'd been using. Eclipse loved their mechs, and he loved wrecking them. Phasic-module in, he shouldered the rifle again and targeted the Asari. He pulled the trigger, watching faint blurs zip through the air towards the Asari. As the woman was currently detonating a Sun in a singularity, her attention wasn't enough on him that she saw the attack coming. The first shots slammed against her holographic armor, rippling the glowing non-newtonic fluids apart. He wished he could see the startled look on her face as more shots joined in, and her biotic barriers were torn apart. Still, he grinned as she fell screaming from the catwalk.

After that, the Eclipse seemed to become distraught and confused. They more or less just started either fleeing or fighting to the death as singular people, not a team. This was where the fight became a sure win. The Suns pressed on, forcing their way through the alley. The Eclipse fled before them, offering bright yellow backs for the Suns to gun down.

As they advanced through the alley, Magnus saw the sign of squalor everywhere he looked. He'd though things were more or less poor in the Suns-controlled areas, but Eclipse-territory was just ridiculous. There was a pried-off vent at ground level where a thin cover and a dirty pillow inside betrayed the fact that people actually lived in the vents. Shit, that was a bit extreme. He shook his head as they came out into a large square, something actually rare to Omega. Shops with glowing neon-signs surrounded the market-place, and that market-place was their target.

Oh, and a lot of Eclipse pointing guns at them.

Behind the Eclipse mercs, Magnus could see the reason for the Suns' advance into Eclipse territory. Chained up and gagged, hundreds of human and Turian civilians, slaves probably, were being loaded up into trucks. Shit, that was a lot more than he'd thought they'd be saving. _Okay, so maybe there are a bit more… shit. _

"Take them down!" With the voices being filtered by the helmets, Magnus really had no idea who was shouting. Still, it was a good piece of advice. The Eclipse, not hindered by risking their hostages in the same manner as the Suns, opened fire before the order was even given, and Magnus saw Blue Suns fall around him, perforated by torrents of slugs. Five soldiers dead before they had even had a chance.

His shields started dropping almost as soon as they activated, when a group of the yellow-clad Salarians focused fire on him_ with grenade-launchers!_ Who the fuck fired explosives like that in a space-station as crappy as Omega? The fact that he reached cover was mainly because he was blown off his feet in the right direction. Coming to a stop as he rolled into a metal barrier, Magnus propped himself up on a knee and started shooting. He hadn't even checked if he'd been hit yet.

The Mattock could sometimes be compared to shooting with a brick. It was bulky, heavy and durable. It wasn't meant for room-to-room fighting, but rather for some more precise killing in medium distances. Right now, Magnus pressed on that by clipping down the fragile toads from his position. The phasic rounds he fired ate into one of the bandoliers with grenades, causing the small explosive to detonate on its owner's chest. He swung the rifle a little, and sent the slugs through the shields and armor of the aliens. He'd never liked Salarians much. Too likely to try and stab one in the back, because that was the only way they knew how to wage war.

A terrible sound alerted Magnus to the spraying flames coming towards him. A wave of liquid flames rushed towards him, and even as he ducked beneath the barrier, his shields struggled to cope with the thermal damage. Bugger was, they couldn't. If he'd had some barriers instead of kinetic shielding, it wouldn't have been a problem. _But noooo. I had to get shields only. Shit, wish I was Aresh. At least he can have both._

The flames came in an unending stream, forcing him to scramble to avoid getting his helmet fused to his scalp. His systems were already wailing about overheating, and the low wall he covered behind was starting to drip.

Crack.

Crack.

The flames stopped as something like the hissing of gas replaced it, suddenly followed by panicked screams. Magnus peered over his cover, seeing the flame-thrower desperately trying to get rid of the canisters on his back. Gas was seeping from it in a visible stream. _And 'boom!'_

The canister blew to Hel and back, taking the Eclipse soldier with it in a blazing plume of fire. Magnus grinned as he watched the flames engulf another Eclipse with it, cooking the Asari in her armor. Two bullets, two kills. Really, considering shields and all, Tara's marksmanship wasn't in question. Hitting the flamer was always a prized target, and why _being_ the flamer was the single most shitty job in any conflict. He touched his fingers to the comms;

"Nice shot, Tara." He grinned, adding an appreciative low whistle.

"Had to relocate for a bit." She apologized; "Kittles. Heavies are down, it's your turn."

"Roger that, ma'am." Brian Kittles replied over the comms. Suddenly, the sound of constant gunfire was drowned out by what sounded like an Elcor barging through walls somewhere to the left. Magnus glanced in the general direction. A tall, rust-brown wall of iron was one of the defining features of the plaza, separating it from the "streets". More barging, and suddenly the wall was gone. Instead, a towering HAS-suit came crashing through it.

"Well shit…" Magnus whistled before pinging shots forced him behind cover. Kittles sat in the reinforced seat of the mech, protected by shields and armored glass, a cigarette visible in his mouth even from Magnus' position.

"HEY! Yo bitches! Room service!" The mech took off, already aiming the oversized gun in its hands at the scores of Eclipse troopers. More or less every one of them had started turning their guns at the mech. Which was the point. While Kittles hosed his way through Eclipse-troopers armed with rifles, not rockets, the rest of the Blue Suns started flanking around the back of the fight, shutting the dwindling numbers of yellow-clad mercs in between a rock and a hard place.

His grin vanished though, as Magnus saw what was suddenly apparent to the rest of the Suns: the hostages were gone. Not as in 'dead', but as in really gone. They had somehow just vanished while the fighting was going on. Shit. Okay, so maybe they had all escaped. Yep, totally likely.

"What the…" he muttered, wincing slightly as a stray slug hit the ground near his feet. He looked around, trying to see if half a hundred or so hostages were hiding in the nearest dumpster. Hey, one could hope.

Sidonis ran up, looking around with a frantic demeanor. Sidonis being frantic? That wasn't a good sign. The Turian then kept running forward, kicking in the first door he came across. He ran on in, followed by shrill screams from inside. Before Magnus even had a chance to react, Sidonis came running back out again and put the door more or less back in its place. Weird.

"Wrong door." The Turian muttered, then kicked open the next one. This time, he didn't enter immediately, but instead stacked against the door, peeking inside. His head snapped around; "This way!"

Magnus was first after the Turian. As he crossed the entrance, he saw the back of yellow armor disappearing around the corner far ahead.

The end of the corridor saw them into a new, smaller plaza. This was also where they found the hostages. Frozen. The entire group of human and Turian hostages was frozen up in various states of shock and surprise. They weren't frozen in ice, but instead in some sort of shimmering glow.

While that in itself was fucking odd, and eerily familiar somehow, what really gave him the creeps was the buzzing. There was the sound of buzzing in the air, like a swarm of bees. Where the Hel had anyone gotten the idea to introduce bees to Omega? At least, without looking up he _hoped_ it was bees. The sound itself could be something else too. Sidonis held out a hand, stopping the dozen or so Suns from proceeding;

"Stop. Something's… off." He muttered in a wary tone.

"Everyone's frozen. No _shit_ something's off." Tuara growled, keeping her shotgun up. As there was no one else to see, she ended up half-aiming at the frozen hostages.

"I mean, why are they just standing there? Someone wants… us to…I don't know." Sidonis growled as he thought aloud. Magnus took a step forward, out from under the roofed corridor. As he looked up, there was something like a flurry in the air above them, high up. It looked like there were… lumps, in the air. The fuck?

Tapping the zoom in his optics, Magnus's eyes suddenly widened in recognition, and fear, when he realized what was wrong with the air above them. Shit. The gods really seemed to have it in for him today.

"Seekers!" he yelled, yanking his rifle up and started firing it in a single fluid motion. Currently, he was more concerned with surviving than his comrades wondering why he was shooting insects.

Right. "Insects".

As soon as he started shooting, the swarm exploded downwards, and the buzzing rapidly grew to an almost unbearable level.

He pulled down the switch on the Mattock, simply opting to spraying his ammunition into the swarm. By now, the rest of the Suns had joined in, pumping pellets and spraying grains into the swarm. Magnus bit his tongue to blood when his rifle overheated, and he yanked out his shotgun before even bothering to let his rifle cool down. The swarms were pretty much on them by then, so the shotgun was better.

"Oh shit! Get back! Get-!" Sidonis yelled as his gun overheated. One of the rabbit-sized bugs smacked into his helmet, interrupting the turian's orders. It was slapped off, Sidonis putting a slug in its unprotected underbelly, even as more bugs got through the firing. Magnus was forced to use his shotgun as a club, warding off what was in essence a wasp on steroids.

"Aresh! Biotics!" Magnus screamed as a panic started mounting in him. Seekers meant Collectors. Collectors meant wrecked SR1. Wrecked SR1 meant dead Shepard. Only, the fear he had held for the insectoids had rested in him since the moment he had fallen in love with Jane. It was irrational now, he knew, but the implications still made his feet go cold. As there was no reply, Magnus glanced towards the biotic, only to see the man frozen. And yet, all of a sudden, a biotic barrier lit up, separating the Suns from the seekers. Though they were now no longer able to get to the hostages, Magnus and the unfrozen Suns were able to smack the drifting bugs from the air with little difficulties.

"Fuck!"

He had to yell. The adrenaline in his system was a bit too much for him to remain calm. He was still holding his shotgun by the barrel, panting along with the six other Suns who hadn't been frozen by the attack. His eyes went to Sidonis, waiting for orders. His surprise, when the Turian turned out to be locked in place, his rifle pointing at the dead bug on the floor. There was a shimmering glow on his exterior, something which made Magnus swallow.

That was when a black-clad, armored figure jumped from a ledge above them, surrounded in a biotic aura. A biotic Turian? Sure, why not. It wasn't as if he hadn't already seen enough messed up events to expect the unexpected. But still, he knew that armor.

A Cabal.

The Turian didn't even waste time acknowledging them. Instead the alien pulsated with blue energy as it turned towards the trapped swarm. The Turian flung what Magnus identified as a warp into the appearing singularity trapping the Seekers.

The biotic detonation nearly blew Magnus off his feet, but didn't seem to faze the Cabal at all. Figures, really. As the Seekers, or what was left of them fell to the ground. It was more or less just mush with pieces of carapace, really. Gods, but there was a reason pissing off a biotic was a bad idea. As the Cabal looked at his group, allowing silence to reveal the lack of Collectors, Magnus did the same. That was when he realized that with both Sidonis and Aresh frozen, and Tara not present, _he_ was the highest ranking Sun there. Great.

Not that he really managed to act on it. The Cabal whipped up another biotic field, trapping the rest of them in stasis fields. The Turian then simply turned its attention towards the frozen hostages. With another tearing motion of biotic energy, the Cabal ripped the glowing barriers apart from the hostages. Magnus blinked. Really, it was all he could do.

"The way is clear. You should return home." The Cabal ordered to the hostages. Magnus realized something then. Despite the filters in the helmet, he realized that the Turian was a woman. Huh. That was unexpected. Magnus watched as the hostages of both species thanked the Cabal with tear-streaming gratitude (because the Suns hadn't just lost dozens of men trying to free them) before they ran off.

So. That was definitely not how the mission had been supposed to end. Especially not with the lot of them frozen in place, at the mercy of one of the most elite soldiers of the Turian Hierarchy. This was definitely capable of causing diarrhea to spill into the fan blades. Literally. This _was _Omega after all.

"Hey! Cabal!" Magnus still had the use of his mouth, and damn if he wasn't going to use it.

The Cabal turned to regard him, a cold t-visor staring into his optics. At least his face wasn't open to her either. There was something about an elite soldier holding you at her mercy, that could make most people piss themselves. Magnus just stared back.

"What do you want, merc?" the voice held some irritation to it.

"Well, how about not being trapped in a fucking stasis-field? That'd be nice." He growled right back.

"Why are you here?"

For a long moment, Magnus just stared at the Turian. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell the Turian anything, let alone if he was _allowed_ to tell her anything. Cabals were sort of a bad idea to entrust with "criminal" plans. Really, he wasn't the best to talk to potentially hostile elite Turian soldiers. Why did Sidonis just _have_ to get frozen? Magnus would have smacked the front of his helmet if he could only move his hands.

"Fighting the good fight." He offered with a failed shrug.

Failed, because he couldn't move a muscle beneath the chin.

"I do not have the patience for your shit, criminal."

This time, Magnus actually took personal offense. It was one thing to get frozen. It was another thing entirely when a female Cabal called you a criminal. Especially because the Suns _were not_ criminals. They were a _private security force_, something apparently foreign to Turians. If they were ignorant, it wasn't _his_ fault, was it?

"I do not have the- you know what? Fuck you. We were doing just fine before you dropped in. We'd have saved their asses and our reinforcements would have barged in and kicked ass." Magnus barked; "Sidonis would have come up with something anyway. So just free us and fuck-"

"Sidonis?" suddenly, there was a very different tone to the Turian's voice. Confusion? Disbelief? "What are- Who?"

"…What?" because Magnus really didn't understand. Just what had happened? Or rather, what had just happened?

"Where is Sidonis?" The Cabal demanded. She stepped forward, close enough that he could see scratches in the armor; "_Lantar_ Sidonis."

"How…did…"Magnus more or less ended up gaping. He was more than sure he _hadn't _used Sidonis' first name. Just how the flying fuck did the Cabal know it? Insanely lucky guess?

"Where?" while her voice remained below shouting, the way her tone pressed was like a brick-wall slapping him in the helmet. Really, what had happened to being a professional soldier? Turians. Really.

"I'd _love_ to point him out, but…" he smiled behind the helmet; "I'm a bit hung up… wait, that wasn't right…Fuck it. He's the Turian over there." He gave a weak nod towards the frozen Turian.

Sidonis was still frozen, aiming at the perforated bug on the ground. The Cabal took off towards him, kicking the dead bug out of the way. She stopped right before him, as if she was unsure of what to do. Cabals weren't supposed to be unsure. They were supposed to be even better than the N7-corps. Did…did Sidonis _know_ the Cabal? Or the other way around?

Weird.

The Cabal glowed purple, then ripped the golden glow, as far as Magnus knew it was a stasis field like any other, from Sidonis. Almost immediately, the Turian operative fell to his knees, his exhausted panting a sign of having struggled against the field since it was put on him.

"That. Was _not_. part of the plan…" he groaned. Oddly enough, he turned towards Magnus before even glancing visibly at the Cabal; "Olafur …_what,_ was that?"

"Seekers." He muttered, looking at the Cabal. More or less. Sidonis was to his left, meaning he could see the Turian in the corner of his eye. The entire left eye, if he really craned his neck. Frey, this was awkward. And uncomfortable. He watched as the Cabal helped Sidonis stand; "But seriously. Why is a Cabal here? And knows you?"

Sidonis finally turned his head a little, almost as if he hadn't realized the Cabal was there until now;

"Why did you come here? You shouldn't have come here." There was disappointment and sadness, but also simple disbelief and surprise in his voice.

What. The fuck. was going on?

"Part of the job." Was that actually _emotion_ in the Cabal's voice? "I came for the hostages…should have known you'd be here too."

The entire thing was fucking surreal. First, Eclipse starts dealing in slaves, then Collectors, at least their swarms, turn up on Omega. And now, Sidonis knew the Cabal who had more or less saved their asses. The Aesir had a strange habit of letting the Norns weave odd patterns. Sidonis pried the helmet from his spikey head, revealing the purple markings on his mandibles. There was a sad smile on his face;

"Sol…you have your brother's sense of timing…" Sidonis muttered.

"I'm just practical. I just point my gun and shoot." The Cabal mused. Magnus just stared for a full ten seconds before his patience ran out;

"So… can you _now _free the rest of us?!"

* * *

January 29th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Office of Admiral Anna Fisher

15:51

Anna leaned back, using her desk as a make-shift seating as she looked at Price's projection on the projector. He was back in his usual outfit, that really outdated SAS-uniform he so loved. Really, it was a little adorable that he always wanted to show up in it. She lowered the cup of instant-coffee in her hand, placing it on the table before she resumed speaking. Or, really it was more or an inquiry;

"And it'll work?"

"In theory, yes. I've been going over the data from Sovereign's wreck, and I believe we may have what made it so lethal." Price nodded, seemingly a little proud.

"Other than being a manifested _god_?" Anna said with a hint of smugness in her voice. She still loved the fact that she had killed a god, no matter what Thomas had done in the Tower. _Her _ship with _her_ at the command had killed a god. If there was better proof that the Goliath was a badass class, she would very much want to see that.

"Other than that, yes. Though the Salarians were quick to snatch the salvaged parts of the guns, I've been able to acquire the data back."

"You just want me to say out loud that you molested Sur'Kesh's cyber-warfare defenses." Anna smirked. Having an AI really came in handy sometimes. Especially when the Salarians couldn't exactly press charges over the infiltration. Officially, they had never even _had_ the data.

"I just think it sounds better when someone else says it too." Price grinned behind his more or less unkempt beard; "Regardless, I have already given the data to Alliance Command."

"I know, Hackett sent me the full scripts." Anna said, taking another sip before refocusing on Price; "So, before I have to spend the better part of the day reading this shit, maybe a short resume?"

"I'm starting to figure your laziness for something childlike, you realize that?" The AI muttered, though the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement; "Sovereign's main gun was actually not a laser, or any other sort of directed energy or particle-weapon."

"Could have fooled me." Anna's reply was dry; "Big, red beam of death? Pretty much says 'laser' to me."

"Liquid metals. We think it's depleted uranium fired in a stream in a liquefied state by a magnetohydrodynamic spinal-mounted cannon. Salarian estimations suggested somewhere between one-point-one, and one-point-three percent of light speed. Alliance Intelligence puts it at one-point-five percent of light speed."

"Huh…" Anna tapped the rim of her cup absentmindedly; "What's the velocity of the Ferrous-slugs in the Goliath?"

"One-point-one percent of light speed." Price threw out the number like it was the color of her coffee.

Anna frowned. That was an increase of full zero-point-four percent. How the hellish fuck was she supposed to get something accelerated to that kind of speed? Of course, there was the option of making the gun-barrels longer, but that would mean a serious round of retrofitting for hundreds, no _thousands _of ships. Holy hell, the bill for that one would be worse than building a second Arcturus. _How the flying fuck do I get the funding for something like that?_

Other than calling in Protocol Ragnarok, of course.

"I give up. _How_ the fuck do you suggest we get that copied?" She groaned. The AI shook his head;

"We don't. Not in the same scale anyway." Price said; "A scaled-down version would be possible with current fittings for anything above frigates. We'd need to unplug the current main guns to insert the new mass-driver, but there's no need to retrofit beyond that."

"You mean 'no use', right?" Anna deadpanned. God, she hated having lost the blank check after the Citadel. Apparently that had been punishment for hitting Tevos; "Okay. So what else?"

"Admiral Daro'Xen has suggested outfitting as many ships as possible with an upgrade to the Mithril-shielding. The Migrant fleet compensated for weak hulls by developing their shields to an extreme degree." Price explained, while Anna merely nodded and drank her coffee; "While not as strong as the Mithril-shields, the Cyclonic barriers will act as a mirror to any incoming projectiles."

"So instead of soaking up the damage, they'd bounce off?" Anna's eyes widened a tiny bit at that thought; "Could work. We still can't get the shields to block missiles, but… if we integrated with this 'Cyclonic' technology… Wait. You spoke with Xen? Weren't you like really scared of her?"

"I don't like the woman, but for now she seems more interested in studying what remains of Sovereign than me. Good riddance, but she _is_ crafty. Avoids the risks by using drones to peel through the wreckage." He shrugged; "Still, that means we have a potential weapon and a potential shield against the main weapons."

"Good. I'll talk to Shastri. With any luck, I can get him to sanction research into this with Alliance funding." Anna said. Because the sad truth was, that with Projects 'Bloodline', 'Relay' and the research into advanced plasma-physics, her coffers were all but drained. She was probably going to ask either Udina or uncle to help her with Shastri. The man didn't have much clue to what went on in the military.

Maybe the Alliance could use a new person in charge? When in peace, politicians were fine leading the galaxy, but in war… in war you needed a soldier in charge.

"There is something else too." Price said, interrupting her train of thought. Anna looked at the AI, waiting for him to continue; "There seems to have been unauthorized activity on Noveria. Satellites picked up activity on the surface about twenty miles south of port Hanshan."

"Noveria's in Spacelane Patrol's jurisdiction. What's going on there that _I_ have to know about?" Anna grumbled. She'd hit the mucky part of her coffee. _Yuck_; "Are the Batarians making trouble?"

"Not entirely. There seems to have been a Cerberus research base on the planet that survived the kinetic bombardment we used to exterminate the infestation." Price said, pulling up a satellite-image of what seemed like a base. It was geometrically made up of small, dark squares surrounded by a thin, dark line. Probably a wall or a fence.

"When you say 'have been', you mean what exactly?"

"Destroyed." The AI said; "It would seem we now know why Admiral Petrovsky took a vacation out of nowhere. Apparently…" and here he drew up a new image; "…his brother ran the place."

Anna looked at the image. It showed Oleg, in his uniform, next to a man who looked a great deal like him. The difference was that the man, Zarnov apparently, was dressed in a Cerberus uniform. She frowned. That would be devastating to Petrovsky's name and credibility, if it ever came out that he had , or had _had_ family in Cerberus. She would need to have a chat with him about that.

"Dr. Zarnov… sounds somewhat familiar, but I really can't place him." Anna shook her head; "You're saying Oleg might have something to do with this?"

"Maybe… I'll keep an eye on the situation, see if more reports of Cerberus come up." Price said. He then vanished before Anna could dismiss him, leaving the admiral a little annoyed. Still, she would need to have a talk with Petrovsky. The picture still hovered before her. Oleg had an expression that said he wasn't pleased with his brother.

She would need to talk to him about this, yes, but first thing first. She swiped her fingers through the image, chose the required option and deleted the image. Suspicious or not, she would not risk Oleg's good name before knowing more. Still, she had more than just that on her plate.

Keying in the number on her Omnitool, she opened the line to Cole's laboratory;

"_Doctor Brynn Cole here._"

"Cole. Got those confiscated weapons I sent to you?" Anna asked, looking at the images of what the team had brought with them back from the Ishimura.

This could give plasma-physics a major kick the right direction.

* * *

February 2nd

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Apartment rented by Ashley M. Williams and Thomas V. Fisher

08:52

In the days since returning from Earth, Thomas had found he felt somewhat… different, than before. It wasn't a bad kind of different, like stomachaches or a broken leg, which had thankfully healed enough now that he could sleep without the cast on (because _that_ had been a complete and utter bitch), and actually enjoy lying sprawled in bed, more or less entangled with Ashley.

Just…different. More at peace, maybe?

Gods, but he still sometimes had this freaky dream where Lucia Williams hated him and started yelling that she would marry Ashley to some Afghan man with five wives. Was that even a real thing? Then, the nightmares usually ended, and he woke up like he was now, seeing light seep in trough the polarized window in the bedroom, bathing the room in light.

The warm rays, even if the light itself was artificial, bathed Ashley's naked back in a golden glow. The sheets covered some of her lower parts, though most of her gorgeous butt was still displayed, leaving the rest of her for him to view. Really, he couldn't come up with a better sight to wake up to, even if he tried. He wasn't sure if it was a product of his life before or just the fact that he fell asleep faster than her, but Thomas always seemed to wake up the first one. And Gods, he wasn't going to complain. While she was asleep, he enjoyed the peaceful sound of her breathing, the relaxed expression on her sleeping face, and the overall… he wasn't even sure there was a word for it.

Though all wasn't as well as it should.

A reason that she rose later, was that some nights Ashley would wake up, bathed in sweat and panting like from a fight. He hated the fact that she was still dealing with, and suffering from the things she had seen on the Ishimura. He hated the fact that she was scared of going to sleep. But most of all, he hated knowing she was suffering, and that he was powerless to do anything about it. He could hold her when her nightmares woke him up, try soothing her, calming her down.

But that was it. He could tear through the hull of a tank if he wanted to, but his powers didn't even extend to taking care of those he loved. That knowledge formed a knot in his chest, paining him.

"Gods, what's happening…" he whispered to the ceiling, his hands coming together in something akin to praying. But he had no prayer to offer, mostly because he didn't think anything would come of it. He'd been praying to both God and assorted Divines and Aesir since he had found out about Ashley's nightmares. So far, it hadn't seemed to help.

He looked at Ashley, her face shaded from the light. Good. He wanted to let her sleep as much as possible right now. Himself, he wanted nothing to do with the outside world until the center of his existence had recovered. He gently pulled the covers a little more over her body, then sighed and lay next to her. He could feel her warm breath on his face as she snuggled towards him in her sleep. It smelled nice. Warm, deep and of Ashley. He hadn't ever figured why some people complained about morning breath. So far he hadn't found it in her. A small, worried frown made its way to his face. _Is it because her sleep gets interrupted?_

He hoped not. Thomas gently draped an arm around Ashley's back and left it there. He didn't dare wake her up, but it was nice, and comforting for him as well, feeling the breath and life of his partner. A well-known, warm feeling spread in his chest at feeling her heartbeat pulsate through her body. It was something he had once, downtrodden, believed he would never know. Now, he merely wanted to give his life for this woman with hazel eyes and black hair. This mysterious creature who was at the same time the pillar of strength he sought, and a person who needed _him_ just as much.

Love. Love was always something he had enjoyed describing, reading about and studying. It was supposed to be the most powerful force in the universe, and in a way, it really was. But all that time, he had speculated and hoped from the perspective of one who had never loved like he did now. Once, he had always wanted to be someone's boyfriend, to have a girlfriend. Only now, when he was here, did he realize how empty those terms were. He didn't know what to call what they had now, he and Ashley, but… it was _more_.

"Well… that's one of the better wake-ups." A warm, sleepy voice suddenly mused. A smile spreading on his face, Thomas looked down into those deep, brown eyes. He planted his lips on hers, offering a better 'good morning' than words possibly could. Ashley took his lips on hers and grinned when he removed them again; "Mmm. Morning to you too, Chief."

"Sleep well, _Chief_?" he replied with a grin of his own. Judging from her mood, she had.

Instead of immediately replying, Ashley just snuggled into his chest, resting her cheek on his neck. Her forehead brushed against his chin, tickling him with the loose strands of black hair. She gave a content yawn and bored her hands beneath his body, holding on like he was a teddy. Thomas held her in return, enjoying the sensation of her naked skin on his. Once, this would have caused an uncontrollable erection, just the sight of her naked. Now though, it was as if there had seeped something familiar into it. It wasn't just wild passion now, though that was more than part of it still. Now though, it was something more solid, something that just _felt_ more right. Possibly it was just his mind goofing out, but that was the best, and only, way he knew how to explain it.

Ashley's breathing tickled his neck;

"Yeah."

* * *

Codex Entry: Spacelane Patrol

Created in 2170, as an attempt at mending the gap between the two major military factions in Citadel Space, the Spacelane Patrol is run by respectively the Human Caldari Corporations, a paramilitary security firm established to provide heavily armed escorts on risky trading routes, and the Hierarchy Trading Associations, Palavan's biggest collection of industrial exhumers, manufacturers and suppliers of heavy metals, reactive metals and kinetic upgrades.

Being a joint operation between officially non-military factions, Spacelane Patrol's warships adhere to several restrictions meant to ensure said corporations would be unable to establish themselves as a rogue state in the traverse, an experience the Turians learned from the Unification Wars. Two of the most severe restrictions concern the fact that no armed Spacelane warship can extend beyond five hundred meters, making it impossible for heavy cruisers, battleships and dreadnoughts to be used, purchased or built by Spacelane Patrol. Unarmed Carriers are allowed though, as the taskforce makes use of frigates unable to enter systems without relays.

The second restriction is the complete ban on the mounting and use of main guns capable of megaton-scale destruction. This effectively rules out the use of spinal-length railguns on any Spacelane Patrol vessel. To make up for this disadvantage, the warships employ a mix of offensive drones and numerous turrets, missiles and smaller railguns mounted as broadside weaponry.

From smallest to biggest deployed vessel:

Trident F-58 fighters – deployed from Hyperion-class carrier.

Merlin-class light combat frigates – deployed from Hyperion-class carrier when used in extra-Relay systems.

Corax-class Destroyer – missile-oriented light destroyer.

Cormorant-class Destroyer – heavy frigate equipped with 425mm auto-cannons.

Moa-class Cruiser – light Cruiser equipped with 600mm auto-cannons. Turian design.

Hyperion-class Carrier – Unarmed Carrier capable of supporting several hundred Trident fighters, as well as up to fifteen wolf-packs of Merlin-frigates.

Spacelane Patrol currently patrols the Attican Beta, Horsehead Nebula, the Argos Rho cluster and the Kite's nest.

* * *

**Well, that is all for this time. Remember that I'd still love to hear from those of you still following me.**


	18. Subject 'Stevens'

**Alright. Glad to see that you Guys are still more or less with me, Magnus too because it'd be awkward to write about a character if you stopped reading. **

**Okay. So, you might remember I botched up chapter 17 a few days back. I posted the wrong chapter (this one) and had to take it Down. Well, here it is then. We're turning the heat on here, quite literally, with the emergence of a new, possible enemy.**

**Is this a new Saren?**

* * *

Subject 'Stevens'

* * *

Roku often cursed his luck. Most of the time, it was due to being trapped in a physical body. As he had no experience with something of that kind, he couldn't even have improvements made to the flawed form. Who knew, maybe he would accidentally get his core destroyed by it. There would be little pride in having beaten Nazara, only to die from an unknowledgeable technician.

This time, he cursed his luck for not having prepared him for something as radical as entering the digital stream that was the galactic web. Clearing his vision, Roku found himself in his old form, robes and all. Gods, he'd missed that look.

"You're the geth accompanying Fisher, right?" A gruff voice asked from somewhere around him; "Don't look much like a geth to me."

"This is…the extra-net?" Roku muttered aloud. His voice echoed throughout the vastness.

He found the streams of floating data, quite wondrous. There was a certain beauty to it. Mortals had the ability to create beauty they themselves would likely never even see. Unless a mortal somehow uploaded itself to the net, this was a sight only for those physically capable of it. That left the question as to how _he_ had ended up here. There weren't supposed to be any geth runtimes in the platform, so… _how_?

"And some." The voice, quite familiar, said; "Your platform isn't here, just your… runtimes, I suppose you could call it."

Roku looked around again. At first, there was nothing. 'Nothing', of course, was excluding the ocean of blue and purple streams of infinite data. But there was no source for the voice. Not immediately anyway. Then, a cloud of bits and date assembled before him, revealing the blue avatar of an AI. Roku's white eyebrows went up a bit, his lips creased in what was either a smile or a frown. He had been without his usual appearance for too long to remember the difference in facial motions.

"AI 'Captain John Price', I presume." Roku greeted the grizzled image of a soldier; "I should have known it was only a matter of time before the Admiral had you look into me."

"Not exactly." The AI shook his head. Hands gloved in military issued leather from the early twenty-first century swiped up, bringing images with it as they were fished from the data-stream.

Roku steppes back in surprise as what looked like a swarm of images, all thinner than reality would allow in the physical realm, surrounded him. While he initially almost suspected the AI of trying something untoward, Roku's doubts were silenced as he went over and through the swarm of information.

_Cerberus on Noveria. _

_Communications between M-6, the very Cerberus team Thomas had met on Port Hanshan._

_A new member of Cerberus. Something to do with the research on Noveria. Something important._

_Name: Tyler Stevens. Past unknown. Frustration from Price as he came upon dead end after dead end. _

_Cybernetics. Rachni. Underground._

_Destination… unknown. Mentions of a Broker._

Roku pulled himself out of the stream, shaking his head to get rid of the confusing sensation of artificial thoughts in his mind. Aspects, he was a divine being, how did an AI of all things get in his head? _That settles it. I have to escape this platform. If a regular AI can do this to me…_

"Something's going on with Cerberus. They are rummaging through what should be left alone." Price commented. He actually more or less summed up Roku's thoughts on the matter; "Admiral Fisher wants to know what's going on."

"And…this involves me how?" Roku wasn't sure whether he should inform the AI of his inability to scour the galaxy while trapped in his geth-shaped prison. He didn't, though. There was nothing concrete suggesting that Price knew of his true nature. No need to over-inform the AI.

Instead of answering, Price pulled a picture out of the streams. It showed the inside of a large chamber, very much alike what Hanshan had been like. Phase-II suits of armor were scattered all over the picture, shooting at insectoids creatures, the Rachni apparently. The center of the picture wasn't on the soldiers though, but instead on a single person, mid-jump in the air. He or she, it was hard to tell, was pulsating a powerful green glow.

Roku found his eyes to be narrowing on their own accord. What by Those Who Rule was this? There was little suggesting the glow came from biotics. Roku recognized the work of an Aspect when he saw it, though he couldn't tell if it was a fallen Aspect or a brother. There hadn't been any other Aspects capable of this when he had been encased in the geth. It was a disturbing thought, if the Rebellious Ones had themselves a new agent so soon after Saren. Especially if they now had the backing of Cerberus.

"So. You are aware of the ongoing events?" he said in a low tone to the AI. Price nodded;

"The Admiral wants people with insight in this to investigate. You, more than anyone fit that criteria."

Roku shook his head, looking at the streams. They reminded him of the Spirit Roads, though those had been forgotten by the mortals for millennia. Only the Krogan had the knowledge still, but the Genophage had resulted in anything not crucial for survival, being rendered completely ignored.

"My body is a geth. I can hardly take it around Arcturus without being glared at, let alone anywhere else in Alliance space."

"Thomas Fisher." Price nearly spelled the name in syllable for syllable. Roku groaned at being lectured by a computer. It was _beyond_ belittling; "He should be able to at least walk around without being gunned down."

"You want me to convince him into going back to killing humans?" Roku's voice wasn't the friendliest; "He just came back from a Reaper-induced, nightmarish hell. Williams is still in therapy, if you didn't notice."

Price crossed his arms before his chest, giving Roku a flat look. Roku stared back, sage-like face furrowed in annoyance at the AI. Price was an unknown, and Roku didn't _like_ unknowns. Especially not AI's, who could easily be Reaper-programs.

"You don't seem to have a high opinion of me." The AI commented; "You're not a _Quarian_ spirit, are you?"

"I have a general issue with programs believing themselves above mortals." Roku said, choosing to ignore the last question; "It's nothing personal."

"This is why I'm an atheist…" Price groaned. He rubbed his eyebrows before looking back up at Roku; "Listen, just let Fisher know the Admiral wants Subject Stevens taken in for questioning."

"Again. Why am _I_ being told this?" Because being dragged into the immaterial plane known as the extranet gave Roku a headache he wasn't aware he _could_ get. Didn't matter how serene it was, it was still nerve-splitting. He was an Aspect. He wasn't _meant_ to be here.

"The Admiral can't assign missions like these in person. Too many eyes are on her right now." Price resigned with a tired look in those digital eyes of his; "this is potential wet-work in Council Space."

Ah. That made a lot more sense. If that was the case, having an AI delivering the message was a better option than for Anna delivering it herself. Roku fingered his white beard, mulling it over. Cerberus was an unknown factor. A lot had happened already that could cause different outcomes than what he knew of, which meant Cerberus could be heading in a direction potentially malevolent and negative for the optimal outcome.

"I see." He nodded. Damn it all, but he almost owed the AI an apology; "in that case, I'll deliver the message. Do you know who the Broker is?"

"No. Information brokers, regardless if they work for the Shadow Broker or not, are frustratingly good at hiding their tracks. I have been able to track down the location though." Price seemed miffed at having to admit defeat to an organic information broker; "Despite the efforts it took, and believe me, it took some effort, I've been able to narrow it down to the Citadel Presidium."

"The Citadel?" Roku muttered in annoyance; "Well, that should be fun."

"Remember: the Broker is of no real importance. It's Stevens we want, as well as those with him. And _alive_, preferably."

* * *

February 9th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Hangar D-11, Military sector.

15:00

Back in action.

Why did that always sound like a positive thing in movies? Because here, it was the end of recovering from the Ishimura. It meant that those left on the team, Jane, Ashley, Nikolai, Hillary, Tequila, Boss, himself and now Adrian, would be going back into a fight that could end up with one less of them returning. It hadn't seemed possible to lose so many people back then, when they'd started out. Back then, Thomas had still held onto the naïve belief that everything would proceed as he knew it had in the game.

Holy crap, he'd been dumb.

The aliens on the team had more or less just… dispersed. It sucked, in Thomas' opinion that the people who had made the SR1's crew what it was, Tali, John, Garrus and Liara, not to mention Wrex, were nowhere to be found. Wrex at least had made it known that he had left for Tuchanka shortly after they had embarked for Cygnus.

Tali had left Arcturus with Admiral Raan, likely for Rannoch while her father remained on Arcturus. Thomas had wanted to say goodbye, as experience had taught him there was no guarantee he would actually see her again. But she hadn't given a word before leaving. Grieving over John, most likely. Understandable. Of course.

Garrus was dead. There was nothing to even say that hadn't already been said. The fact that the Turian had been killed in the very last moments of the campaign made Thomas hurt whenever he noticed the empty spot once filled with a snarky alien. It was a loss that really couldn't be regained. A hole that couldn't be refilled.

Thomas had no idea where Liara was, nor Scorch for that matter. They were probably together, maybe starting up Liara's business on Illium. He'd liked the socially awkward, yet caring Asari. It was odd, and felt wrong when he realized that she could very well be a cold-blooded information broker when he saw her again. _If_ he ever saw her again. And he had liked Scorch too. The clone had been one of the more entertaining acquaintances he'd made over the months, and he hoped to see the man again.

"We're going to the Citadel." Jane started out. She probably knew not to expect much enthusiasm from the battered team. Even Hillary didn't seem to exactly radiate her usual carefreeness; "and if this goes as planned, no one will even have to loosen a shot."

Those words 'if all goes as planned'. Kaidan had uttered something similar only minutes before the ship had claimed him.

The team was assembled in the hangar used when they left or arrived to the station. As opposed to the other disembarkings though, none of them were in military armor for this. It was all stored in their ship. Jane, wearing a non-descript black hoodie, paced in front of the "civilian" vessel that would take them to the Citadel, of all places. Thomas didn't look forward to visiting that station again. He tugged at the leather-jacket he had worn in London, speculating if this was to be another "easy" mission.

At least the enemies on the Citadel would at most try to arrest them.

"What for?" Tequila asked, hands in the pockets of her sagging trousers. She seemed to be rocking the 'Colonial Latina'-look. Whatever rocked her world. Or whatever Latinos said. Was that racist much? He really didn't care.

Jane didn't answer. Instead, she looked at Roku, as the geth-platform walked into their midst. The only sound made was when the padding beneath the metallic feet hit the floor. By now, the only person outright staring at Roku was Adrian, who seemed uneasy at the prospect of a geth near him. Friendly or not. When he stopped next to Shepard, Roku glanced over the team with his one 'eye';

"Cerberus has started stirring up trouble. Their activities seem to surround a single person, or a single team." As Roku spoke, each member of the team received a file on their omnitools. Thomas opened it, his brow furrowing in confusion as Roku continued; "Stevens, Tyler. Newly initiated Cerberus Operative from what Intelligence has managed to gather. Command wants him, and possibly the team he serves in, taken into custody."

"And that's going to be _our_ job…Why?" Thomas grumbled. He didn't care much for returning to the Citadel.

The Council had done their singularly best and upmost to take a massive shit on everything the Alliance had sacrificed throughout the entire campaign against Saren. They had denied making either Jane or John a Spectre, they had ignored requests for help, and now they denied the Reapers as a threat. And Cerberus had killed the only one of them who actually seemed to have an IQ above that of a toad.

"Look at the next image" Roku stated. Thomas complied, moving on from the image of a young man, Tyler Stevens, and to a picture showing… what, exactly he wasn't sure of.

"_Santo Joseppi…_" Tequila muttered beneath her breath, yet loud enough for most to hear. Thomas was thinking along similar lines as he realized what the image revealed. A human, floating above a fight, glowing with a green aura. _What. The. Fuck?_

"Thomas. Kindly demonstrate." Roku said, lens focused on him. Demonstrate. Demonstrate what? How? By being a human torch? "I think one hand will suffice."

Right. That made it a lot easier. Thomas pulled in the sleeves on his jacket, not wanting to risk melting the leather. He actually didn't know how hot the flames got. He then held out his right hand, palm open upwards, and sent the energy there.

A bright, emerald flame appeared and hovered in his palm, dancing like the fire from a torch. The familiar symbols and lines started decorating the skin beneath the flame, causing a few apprehensive whistles. Mostly from the newest additions to the team.

"As you can see, the color is more or less identical, as is the glow and appearance." Roku explained; "While we cannot be completely certain, this likely means an Aspect is involved with Stevens. What we don't know, even if this is the case, is whether or not this Aspect serves our side, or the Harbinger's."

"You mean we don't know if this is a new Thomas or a new Saren." Nikolai stated flatly.

Instead of glaring at him for interrupting, Jane nodded.

"Correct. Seeing as Stevens is a member of Cerberus, we cannot rule out either possibility. Due to same, we are to apprehend him and possible associates on the Citadel, where they are to meet an information broker in thirty-nine hours, to be exact. We don't know _who_ the broker is, or where exactly they will meet. The Presidium is as narrowed down as it gets." Shepard said, looking over her team. Thomas knew what she saw: patchwork.

"Travel by Relay to the Citadel takes around twenty hours, not taking eventual accidents or flight-lane issues into account, right?" Tequila said. When a few of the team, those who knew her origins, stared at her, she puffed indignantly; "What? I _do_ try to keep informed."

"The corporal is right." Jane brought them back to the task at hand; "when we arrive at the Citadel, we're going to assess the situation. If there are signs of a strong Cerberus presence, don your armor. If not, we do this incognito."

"And…if Stevens _is_ like Saren?" Ashley said, crossing her arms before the red hoodie she had found in the old Red-Cross store on the station.

"Non-lethal takedown with extreme prejudice." Jane didn't even smile when she said it. The prospect itself was terrifying, actually. A new Saren, and one who had Cerberus with him. Shit. This could get bad. Jane looked at him Right. Attention; "If it comes to it, Fisher and Aquila will take him down."

"Yay us…" Tequila said without much enthusiasm; "I guess that's the downside to phenomenal, almost-cosmic powers…"

"And I suppose Roku can't help because the Citadel doesn't buy the "Heretics"-story" Thomas muttered.

The construct shook his lamp-like head.

"Sadly yes. There is an understandable animosity that would cause my form to garner unwanted attention."

"Right…" Thomas muttered, then looked at Jane; "Is this legal?"

Shepard leveled a flat look towards him that really conveyed the message. Right. Non-legal, non-official action. Wet-work. That'd be his first time trying that. Well, first time he _intendedly _and willingly did it. The rampaging on Pragia was technically wet-work, seeing how it was an Alliance marine going AWOL while taking action against armed terrorists. At least, that was how he understood the definition.

"Alright, load up." Shepard ordered. Thomas sighed and started towards the civilian vessel. The ferry, or whatever space-busses were called, sat and waited for them with bright white colors. It looked almost completely innocent.

Yet it would carry them towards an encounter that was anything but.

* * *

February 11th

The Citadel, Serpent Nebula

Citadel Presidium, Docks.

09:12

"Alright people. Updates from Intelligence suggest the presence of heavily armed Cerberus personnel on station." And by 'intelligence', Jane of course meant that data stolen from Citadel Traffic indicated that.

The fact that C-Sec wasn't in the middle of apprehending Cerberus seemed to speak for their inefficiency. Really, what was Bailey doing, sitting on his ass? Then again, maybe Bailey wasn't above a regular cop in C-Sec. Thomas remembered seeing the man at Garrus' funeral, so at least he knew the man was alive after Sovereign's attack.

"So we're going in armed" Hillary stated, already in the process of opening the locker containing her gear when she looked at the Captain with a thoughtful expression; "wont C-Sec stop us?"

"I've pulled some strings with an old friend" Jane replied. A small smile seemed to crease her lips; "We have Spectre-backing for this one. Just _don't _do anything excessive."

"Who's the Spectre willing to back _us_? Hillary inquired in mild disbelief.

Thomas had an inkling as to who.

"Nihlus Kryik. He left the Normandy right before you joined the team." Shepard said, starting to tread into the p-steel armor; "So it's not surprising you wouldn't know him"

"Right. The Turian, right?" Hillary seemed mildly amused for some reason as she clasped on her legguards.

Thomas nodded to her, silently wondering what had become of the Spectre since they had parted ways. Was he still overly dependent on following the rules to the letter, or had he become more independent and flexible? Time would tell, he supposed. His jacket discarded on the floor, he secured the armor for his torso. The p-steel armor felt heavy, and somewhat unwieldy to handle, but it had shown time and again that it handled slugs better than the old-school hardsuit.

"Do we bring heavy weapons?" Nikolai asked only half-serious, tapping the handle of his tri-barreled smartgun. Shepard sent him a flat look; "Didn't think so…" he muttered.

"Nothing above small arms." Shepard said, pressing her heavy, grey helmet over her head. She took a moment, likely to allow the systems to start up; "Okay. I'm looking through Citadel surveillance…"

"Since when can we do _that?" _Tequila muttered; "C-Surveillance is secured on the same level as the Avina-VI's."

Thomas couldn't really help frowning at that. While _he_ had known this universe for years, Tequila has never heard of it before she arrived. And yet, she was starting to gain a deeper knowledge of the galactic community than he had. It was kinda awkward, really. After this, he was going to start studying. After all, if he wasn't a soldier all the time, nothing would be wrong with taking am interest in what went on at the non-doomsday level of galactic society.

"Since the Alliance started developing AI's." Roku said from where he was seated, resting on his mechanical knees; "Our source is Admiral Fisher's personal AI."

Thomas stopped short of putting on his helmet, looking at the geth-platform in surprise;

"Anna's got an AI? Like a geth?"

"Not exactly." The Aspect corrected; "Her AI, 'John Price' is fully sentient…He's also got an annoying personality, far too easily offended."

"She named an AI after a game-character?" Thomas said, lips twisting in an uncertain smile; "Somehow that sounds _just_ like her."

Roku seemed to do the geth-equivalent of silently blinking for a few moments. He did those odd eye-flaps Legion had done a lot of too, and it would have been just as adorable if only Roku hadn't been the one in the platform. Roku wasn't anywhere near adorable.

"Regardless of the source…"Jane broke in; "Our target is a member of Cerberus taskforce M-6, the same people we met on Noveria. If possible, we are to take them all into custody."

Thomas stared. It felt like his heart was about to either stop or smash straight out of his chest. M-6. The people from Noveria. That meant there was a chance for Miranda, the _bitch_, to be there as well. His blood felt like it started boiling in his veins. His skin felt like it was catching fire, and his breath got stuck in his throat.

"Fisher. Your eyes are doing the thing." Jane broke him from his thoughts. He turned to look at her, only to realize his vision had gone green; "Mind cutting it out before setting something on fire?"

Thomas blinked. Mostly in surprise that he had been so obvious. And then in annoyance that he had been so obvious without meaning to be.

"Brings back memories…" Adrian mused with a dry tone while Thomas forced his eyes back to normal; "Anyone's got a Brute?"

Jane, Ashley and Thomas sent him odd stares. Adrian shrugged as he pulled his gauntlets on;

"Hey, if anyone's allowed to joke about it." There really was no way they could argue that one. Adrian had been the one to spend months in a hospital after playing cat-and-mouse with the mutated Krogan-Turian hybrid. Jane did a slightly jerking motion, causing attention to fall on her;

"Alright, got him." Shepard swiped her omnitool towards the group. A map of the Presidium sprung up from each wrist-device; "Target located on Presidium Zakhera-ward section. Fisher, Williams, Tengberg and Aquila come with me for the primary head-off. In the case we miss the target, Dwaine, Boss and Pennyloafer will head him off at the docks. Kryik got us a C-Sec skycar, so use it to find out where Stevens runs to in case he gives us the slip."

"Cool, we get to play Fast 'n Furious?" Hillary chuckled, pulling the handle on her rifle. The blue symbol for disrupter-rounds appears above the weapon for just a moment. It was the best option really, when dealing with possible hidden kinetic shields. This _was_ Cerberus, and Jacob Taylor's team even. It would be naïve to think there wouldn't be some hidden surprises.

"Maybe." Jane didn't sound like she planned on it being the outcome; "Aquila, ever handled a sniper-rifle?"

The corporal gave a short laugh at that.

"Captain, I scored highest on the team in basics. I had some five medals from marksmanship-competitions lying around back home." Tequila boasted with a grin probably hidden beneath her helmet. At some point after the Ishimura, she had finally adopted the phase-II helmet instead of the old marine-hardsuit version. It left her eyes hidden, whereas they would have betrayed her expression earlier; "I can handle a sniper just fine."

"I may end up regretting this…"Jane muttered, then looked at Nikolai. She opened the locker and tossed him the folded-up weapon; "Tengberg, 'think I can entrust you with pairing with Aquila? I need one heavy-hitter in both places, in case things get compromised, and Fisher's got the best chance at taking Stevens down quickly."

Nikolai caught the rifle awkwardly, looking a little flustered.

"I…haven't used one before. I mean, I guess I can do it. Yes ma'am, you can trust me." He said, unfolding the viper. While most would have been jealous of the mantis in Tequila's hands, the newly promoted corporal nodded in relief. The viper had the firepower and recoil of a carnifex, but the accuracy and reach of the mantis, making it the best choice for a fresh sharpshooter.

"Good. Fisher, Williams and I will isolate and surround the guy. If things go to hell, cap his legs."

"…Brutal, isn't it?" Nikolai sighed.

"It's Cerberus. We should cab his knees regardless." Hillary commented darkly; "Fucking assholes."

"We're coming into dock. Make sure all weapons are holstered. We've got permission to bring them on-station, and Nihlus has guaranteed no consequences if we end up using firearms." Jane said, bringing up the map again; "I want Tengberg and Aquila here. The rest of us wait _here_, while Pennyloafer, Dwaine and Boss will stand by at the car _here_."

"Everything's planned, huh." Thomas sighed as the shudders going through the room alerted them to the ship docking; "Captain, I…have a question."

"Shoot."

"The target… if he really is what we think he is, will you let me take point in this?" Thomas said, feeling more than a little awkward at the question. Jane would be lenient towards a lot of what happened on the team, something that stemmed from the Saren-campaign probably. But he doubted she would agree to this.

"You want to be in charge for this one?" Jane summed up. Her transparent t-visor showed her sharp, green eyes narrow in thought. Thomas felt his ears heat up. When the request was said like that, it really sounded borderline insubordinately.

"It's… Just if we have to deal with a new Saren." He muttered. Despite his visor being polarized, it felt like the captain's eyes drilled into his; "Roku can't be seen on the station. Other than him, I'm the one with the most experience in this."

Gods, he felt stupid for saying it out loud.

"Okay."

Thomas blinked. What had she just said?

"Okay?"

"Okay. You can take this one, _with_ me." Jane agreed; "You're a great soldier, Fisher, but I _can't _risk you being the leader here."

"That's all I… Thanks, Captain." He muttered sheepishly, watching as the doors opened up to the docking-tube.

"It's not that I don't trust you. Far from it, I trust you with my life, Fisher." Jane sighed, looking at him; "But your history with Cerberus cannot be allowed to interfere with our capture of Stevens."

"Of course not, Captain."

"Good."

Odd as it was, his thoughts weren't even on Stevens. Stevens was the target, yes. He was the reason they were there, _yes_. He was potentially a risk on par with Saren, also _yes_. He was involved with Cerberus, triple _yes_.

Cerberus.

Cerberus being involved was the reason he wanted to be on point for this one. Cerberus were the ones who had tortured Jennifer. _Miranda_ was involved in the torture on Jennifer, and _Miranda_ had lied time and time again.

He wanted to be on point, because of he saw Miranda, he didn't want to be bogged down by having to ask for orders. He wanted to _hurt_ the bitch.

He hated her. Thomas didn't hate a lot of people. He hadn't even hated Saren. But _Miranda…_

She was the only person he had ever _really_ hated.

Hatred, while not a positive thing in itself, allowed him complete serenity as he imagined scalding the skin from her flesh.

Fuck the timeline. If he found her, she was dead.

* * *

The Citadel, Serpent Nebula

Presidium, Commercial are

Outside 'Alana's Textiles and Radiant Raiment'

16:24

Thomas rested his elbows on the café-table, fingers tapping on his helmet. If Stevens turned out to be nothing but human, he would put his helmet back on. But if it turned out that Stevens had a dark Aspect working with him, the helmet would only get in the way. Saren had cracked it almost instantly in their fight. So for now, the helmet stayed on the table.

Shepard was across the street, leaning against the wall next to the store. Her helmet was off as well. While this might seem risky, those who knew her knew she had a biotic barrier ready, strong enough to stop a missile. Both were looking at the entrance to the store, an Asari-owned clothing business. Both could see the target.

The visor in his helmet was directed at the store, allowing Roku to view the events. The Aspect remained on the civilian vessel, unable as he was to move on the Citadel.

"_I see him. He's changed his hair, and there's an extra scar, but it's him."_ The Aspect confirmed over the comms. Thomas nodded and tapped his ear-piece to the rest of the group;

"Roku confirms. That's our guy."

There was a short pause. Thomas checked his sidearm before looking towards the Relay monument. Ashley was on guard there, helmet hanging in its clip at her waist.

"_You sure about that, Thomas?_" Tequila's voice came in over the comms; "_He really does look like a harmless rookie. Then again, except for the eye, so do you._"

"According to Roku, he's more than that." Thomas replied; "We stick to the plan. Get him alone, then we jump him. Nick, Tequila, you ready on overwatch?"

"_We are." _ Nikolai said with a low voice in the comms. There was a sound of his rifle scratching his ear-piece; "_We're ready and waiting."_

"Jane, Ash and I will take him down here." There was a nod from both Jane and Ashley as they looked at him from their positions. It really felt weird more or less giving orders to the others. Jane and Ashley mostly; "We see what's special about him, _how_ he is special. And then we make him regret his connections with Cerberus, one way or the other." The fact that Stevens was with Cerberus completely threw the notion of peaceful talking out the window.

"…_got it._" Tequila said; "_and if his associates are with him? We take them in too, no?"_

"Depends on who they are. Identify before taking a shot, I'd say." A small pang of killing-intent went through him at the thought of a certain woman. A certain bitch; "If you see a blonde or brunette in a cat suit… she's mine."

"_Got it. Aquila, out._"

The team fell back into silence, watching the Cerberus operative carrying out such menial a task as shopping for clothes. It befuddled Thomas, seeing a possible agent of the Reapers, shopping for clothes. Really, it almost was worth a laugh.

They watched as Tyler paid the shop-owners, a trio of Asari maidens, then adjust his grip on the bags. Maybe there was something in the bags that could be used for disguises to infiltrate Alliance infrastructure. Then, as he left the store, whistling, it was as if he stopped to talk to himself. From his spot, Thomas could see the target's expression become worried. He started walking towards the open Presidium center, and knowingly or not, towards the waiting Gunnery Chief.

"_He's heading towards me. Orders?_"

"_Stand ready, Williams. Fisher, we move to intercept" _Jane ordered over the comms. Thomas nodded and slid from the chair, helmet clipped to his waist. If Stevens was a new Saren, Thomas wanted to hide nothing of the violence he would unleash upon a man who worked for both the Reapers and for the people who had tortured Jennifer. Already his blood felt hot again, and his skin tingled in anticipation.

"_Stevens has spotted me. I'm revealing my firearm_" Ashley said over the comms. Thomas looked in her direction, seeing Stevens drop his bags at the sight of Ashley unfolding her new Avenger. While the Lancer was a decent rifle, the Avenger had less drawbacks, such as being able to fire more shots off, thanks to more extensive heat sinks. The only difference in appearance was that the Avenger was matte black, while the Lancer had been red.

"Got it. Can you keep him?" Thomas shrugged off the oddity of commanding Ashley, and focused on Stevens.

"_Yep. He's not getting away… Looks frustrated." _Ashley muttered.

"_Keep your distance. Don't get too close to him." _Jane said. Logical, really. Thomas knew what kind of damage his, and Saren's powers could inflict. He didn't want Ashley endangered. Tyler Stevens, with his dropped purchases on the floor, turned to see him and Jane approaching. While Jane yanked out her N7-issued Lancer-VII, he unfolded his own Avenger, almost wanting to just vent Stevens right then and there.

At first, it seems like the operative was angered by seeing Jane. Did he know her? It wasn't exactly because she had been in hiding, but considering her records had been fabricated by Anna, because one didn't just get ones hands on records from across universes, it would be odd if Stevens actually did know her.

Then, his eyes found Thomas. The change in expression was evident.

Stevens went pale, his eyes widening in surprise and shock as he obviously took in the scarred features. He, on the other hand, looked like a regular bully. Muscled, short hair and something strange in his eyes. The Dark Aspect, most likely. Right, this could get ugly.

"Alright Cervie, hands in the air unless you wanna lose them." Jane ordered, moving towards the operative. Ashley did the same from behind him, and as Thomas glanced at the catwalks above, the dull, white of Nikolai's armor was the only telling sign that the two snipers were up there.

Stevens seemed panicked. His eyes widened, and his legs trembled as he seemed to have an internal argument. His eyes went to the floor as his expression went like a pendulum between panicked and pissed. His hands, at least, went above his head as Jane moved in, her Omnitool producing a set of shackles from the on-store omnigel.

Then, it took only a second for the plan to go down the drain.

As Jane was about to force Stevens on his knees, the operative snapped up in a swift motion, almost a blur, and jabbed Shepard in the face with the butt of her own rifle. Jane fell back with a groan, and Stevens, seemingly subconscious, sidestepped a slug from one of the snipers in the process. For a moment, he fumbled with the stolen weapon before swiftly turning around with it, finger on the trigger.

Thomas felt like the world slowed down in grey as he watched helplessly while Stevens pulled the trigger on Ashley.

Her shields took the first punches, sparking to life with an electric crackle. Stevens didn't let up the fire though, even as Thomas started running. The shields failed.

The Lancer kept firing, and nearby civilians screamed and scattered. As rifles from above coughed out shots, Stevens seemed to weave around the projectiles.

"_Fuck, I can't hit the pendejo!_"

Thomas couldn't even process the fact that he had a gun too. Stevens was _too _close to Ashley for him to shoot. The distance was too great for him to cross before her shields failed, and Thomas watched in raw horror as the slugs started biting into Ashley's armor instead. If just a _single _round hit above her collar. Unprotected. If he _hit_ her…

The force of the rounds threw Ashley backwards on the ground. Thomas dropped his gun and leapt at Stevens, fists already blazing with fire as the operative turned around. Stevens seemed surprised at the sight, but Thomas didn't care if the shit was seeing Jesus himself before him. He had _hurt_ Ashley. He had _shot_ her.

Familiar sensations coursed through his mind as the blood started boiling. His vision became engulfed in emerald, with flames burning where eyeballs would normally rest.

Wrath. Revenge. Anger. Hate.

Stevens whipped the rifle up as a shield between them. Thomas threw his left fist through it, ripping and burning and melting through the metal. Even the block of tungsten made for no barrier for his wrath as he ripped the ruined weapon away, leaving Stevens stumbling backwards, hands brought up to defend himself. The only thing stopping Thomas from plunging his fingers into Stevens' eyes and burn his brain out was Ashley's pained groan on the ground. Her voice brought him the knowledge that she was alive.

He instead glared at Stevens, enjoying the way the swine's eyes widened in horror at the sight of Aspect-given powers, fueled by wrath and hatred. The dark agent almost seemed to think he could compare with him. Thomas grinned cruelly at the notion and threw himself forward, aiming on caving in Stevens' ribs with a single punch of his bionic fist.

Stevens mirrored the action and threw his own fist forward, seemingly aimed at blocking the blazing punch coming towards him. When the fists connected, Thomas felt a slight tremor going through his arm as something _not_ organic impacted his own bionic limb. Still, the tremor was nothing compared to what happened to Stevens.

The sound of bones snapping, flesh and skin tearing, and joints becoming dislocated was all sweet, delicious sensations to Thomas' ears. Stevens' mouth opened in a silent scream. The operative _flew_ backwards, skidding over the floor before he tumbled to a stop, gasping in pain beyond his ability to voice.

Thomas flew forward as well, but not towards Stevens. Instead he leapt to Ashley's side, kneeling next to her groaning form. The fire vanished from his eyes and hands, instead replaced by worried eyes and gentle palms. Fright nagged on his heart as he gently took her head in his hands, allowing her to rest on his knees.

"…Ow" she groaned, eyes fluttering before remaining open; "Next time, I shoot the little shit first."

"If I leave enough of him to shoot." Thomas growled. He examined where she has been hit, feeling relief at seeing the armor had caught the slugs themselves, leaving a crack in her armor at the upper chest. A withheld breath left him as he finally managed to convince himself that she wasn't seriously hurt. Then he stood and looked after Stevens. He was on the floor, propped on the intact arm while a strange, green glow enveloped his shattered arm. Then, he used said arm to get back on his feet. Something was said, but Stevens was too far away for Thomas to hear it.

Then the bastard turned around and ran.

"Oh _Hell _no you don't…" Thomas took off after the operative, leaving the rest of the team. His entire focus once more became Stevens. The man who was Cerberus, and the man who was also a possible new agent for the Reapers.

"_This is Shepard. Target escaped, heading the opposite way of the Tower from the shop. Fisher's in pursuit, we're following on foot. Car-team, pursue along the lake. Be on the look-out for additional Cerberus personnel."_

"_Boss here. Engaging vehicle, eta twenty seconds__._"

Thomas' legs pumped, almost burning in the literal sense as he pursued Stevens. The operative was _fast_. Thomas was having trouble keeping up, even with the servos making up for his armor's weight. Why had no one said he was so _fucking _fast? When Stevens vanished around the corner, Thomas growled and pumped his legs. He slapped the adrenaline-injector in his armor, not even feeling the prick from the thin needles. Instead he felt the way the world slowed down around him while he himself remained running. As he came around the corner, his eyes widened a little in surprise;

"**Stop right there, Thomas Fisher of the Normandy, bane of Saren. You shall not pass.**" There was a Cerberus soldier, in full armor, standing in the way. The thing that was so_ wrong_ about him, was his voice. It was like when Roku was pissed. Cerberus had thought _this _would stop him? A modified speaker? He would have laughed, if it wasn't because the soldier stood in his way.

Instead of taking the soldier's advice, he turned the air in his grasp to fire, then firebent the soldier in the chest. Fire beat whatever shields he had, and the explosion launched the man through a wall, the adjacent office and over the edge of the Presidium lake. The drop being some fifty meters above the surface of the lakes, Thomas didn't bother wasting time seeing if the man was coming back. Instead, he kept running after Stevens.

Stevens, was far ahead. How the man was running so fast, Thomas had no idea. Cybernetics, probably. Augmentations alone wouldn't be able to pull it off. Then suddenly, as Thomas rounded a new corner, the man was gone. Fire extinguished from his eyes and hands, he came to a stop, looking around in confusion. _Where the fuck did he go?_

Footsteps from behind revealed the rest of the team coming to a stop as well. Jane was nursing a clearly broken nose, two fingers pressing on the bridge. Ashley looked no worse for wear, the crack in her armor being the only sign she had even been shot. Figures. She was tough. Tequila and Nikolai came only a few seconds later, latter panting like he'd run a marathon.

"Did we…lose…lose…_shit_…" Nikolai groaned, hitting his armored chest. Considering the mountain of armor and servos he was wearing, it was forgivable for him to be out of breath. As Thomas was about to reply, a faint, panicking voice could be heard from…the maintenance locker. When the voice became recognizable, Thomas' lips creased with a vicious smirk.

"_I'm on the Presidium!_" a hushed voice exclaimed inside the locker; "-_and what docks even? There's like-_"

Thomas didn't let Stevens finish as he plunged both hands, fingertips blazing green as he tore into the locked door. There was a panicked yelp from inside as Thomas withdrew his hands. He looked at Tequila, nodding towards the door. They _were_ both assigned to take in Stevens. She grinned aloud, an amused huff as she stepped over to the locked door. She grabbed the edge of the holes with both hands and tore outwards. Chi or metalbending, whatever the scientists called it, was impressive. Tequila tore out the thick metal door, allowing Thomas to step inside. The room lit up green, due to the emerald flames.

Stevens was hiding in a corner.

Coward.

"Found you." Thomas chuckled in grim amusement. Tyler's eyes widened in horror;

"What the hell-" he started. Thomas hauled the coward from the room, then pinned him against the wall outside.

Fear. The raw fear in Stevens' eyes was a positive sight. Thomas felt like smirking, but the fact that Stevens had shot at Ashley turned that smirk into a scowl. He looked at the rest of the group;

"Anyone caught the other guy?"

"Not since you punched him through the wall. By the way, thanks for that. Udina will have my ass for when the Council complains about humans conducting destruction of public property." Jane gave him a flat look that basically told him to be careful not to overstep his bounds. Tyler writhed on the wall;

"_Why_ are you trying to kill me?! What did I ever _do_ to you!?" Tyler demanded, drawing attention back to him. Thomas decided to play the 'dumb' game. Pretend there wasn't a dark god in the man's head. If there was no "green" Aspect other than Roku, then what was in Stevens' head was a Reaper. Or something like that.

So he went with the other reasons for wanting to boil the man's intestines in his body, then drag them out through his mouth.

"Well at first this was simply because you represent Cerberus by being a member of their organization. Then, you shot Ashley." Thomas could feel the fear radiating from the man as he tightened his grip on his collar. Ashley shifted on her feet, doing her best not to look directly at the Cerberus operative. Was she feeling bad for beating the scumbag who had shot her up? Thomas looked back at Stevens. Pinned to the wall like the Cerberus insect he was; "you wanna know what I've been through to keep her safe? And then you try killing her?"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry I didn't- I was- I panicked!" Stevens exclaimed, grasping for his throat as Thomas held on tight. Maybe he should slack just a bit? If the man died, he couldn't very well give a whole lot of information.

"Thomas, you know we can't kill him. Orders, remember?" Nikolai said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Thomas wanted to shrug it off at first, but realized that Nikolai was right. Damn it, why was the bugger always the calmer of the two? It really didn't feel fair that Nikolai was both stronger and had a better grip than him. Thomas sighed in annoyance and slacked the grip on Stevens' throat.

"Maybe…" he muttered irritated. That was about all he got out before what felt like a sledgehammer impacted on the side of his head. The world slurred and whirled out of focus as he remotely felt someone pushing off against his legs. He hit the ground in a thud and clatter of armor on sidewalk. Why had he discarded the helmet again?

Voices called out something he couldn't quite catch, and shapes moved beyond his hazy vision as a migraine exploded in his brain. It literally felt like his brain had strapped on a jetpack before escaping his skull in a fireball of pain.

He didn't feel the injectors, but he felt their effects as his vision started coming back, as well as the migraine setting itself on fire before waving the flag of death above his brainstem. It felt like his head was going to blow up, and his innards struggled to be the first out of his mouth. He clamped his teeth together as a wave of bile was launched from down below, then forced it back down. Great. A concussion… _Fuck…bastard's got some nerve…_

As the haziness and pain started subsiding, likely due to more injections, _oh gods needles_, he could make out Jane yelling at the car-team to get their thumbs removed from their buttholes. Apparently, they hadn't caught the fucker yet. Was _he_ supposed to do everything by himself? Really.

"…_ow_." He groaned as he struggled to his feet. Ashley was there to offer a fresh painkiller while Nikolai hauled him the last bit up. Thomas just allowed the heavier guy to do as he pleased.

"The car-team spotted him but lost him in the crowd when another car tried forcing them off the lanes." Jane explained as they started running. After mere moments, she was the only one keeping up with his speed, and only thanks to the biotics, if the purple glow was any indication.

"Cerberus?" Thomas asked, swallowing a fresh wave of puke that he didn't care to launch then and there.

"Probably." Jane huffed, keeping a hand on her ear-piece through it all. Her expression changed from annoyance to worry, and then outright fright; "Boss? Boss come in. Boss! Anyone!?"

"What?" Thomas demanded as they pushed through crowds of civilians. Most seemed either offended at being shoved aside, or confusion at seeing human soldiers on the Citadel.

"Shit." Jane hissed, looking from her hand to him; "Car-team was shot down. No casualties, but whoever's in that other car is confirmed Cerberus. A Mattock was fired at the car and the engines were hit. Dwaine had to emergency-land in a café."

"Fuck! we can't let him get aw-" Thomas was cut off as something hit his side. Coated in a shimmering film of emerald as he was, the projectiles melted down before actually touching him. Jane stopped her running and pulled out her sidearm. Thomas just kept running, looking for the shooter while brushing and pushing through the crowds. He did his best to avoid touching anyone, but the heat he gave off seemed sufficient at making people leap away when they thought a bonfire had appeared next to them. Thomas did his best at taking the temperatures down a notch, so as to _not_ burn nearby civilians alive. As the crowds got denser, he ended up having to end the flames altogether, and instead hope his shields could keep up.

More rounds hit him, and as his shields sparked to life, he found the shooter. A civilian aircraft flew not twenty yards away, with a female Cerberus soldier hanging out the side with a Mattock aimed at him. A Mattock. So she had been the one to shoot down Boss and the others?

_Return to sender, Bitch!_

Gathering the energy into his hand, Thomas formed and threw the emerald fireball at the shuttle. Even from the distance, he could hear the woman yelling at the driver to dive. The vehicle managed to dive beneath the fireball, which instead dissipated some further ten meters away. The car sped on ahead, coming closer to ground-level.

They were going to pick up Stevens.

Well fuck you too, Cerberus. He wasn't about to let them get away like that.

As he forced his way through the crowds, Thomas saw ahead that Stevens was jumping off a ledge and into the hovering vehicle. Oh fuck no. Thomas pumped his legs to the extent that they caught fire on their own. Instead of trying to force his way through the crowds, he jumped at the nearby wall and used the surface to push against as he blasted himself, eyes blazing, above and beyond the panicking crowd.

Fucking civilians. They should just move out of the way when soldiers came running.

He landed on the ground with enough force to snap unaugmented bones, rolling to his feet as he sprinted towards the car. It was taking off, a clearly panicking Stevens visible in its windows. Thomas reached the end of the walkway, and jumped. He sailed through the air, flames licking the air behind him before he hit the roof of the car. It shuddered with the impact and added weight.

"He's on the roof! He's on the bloody roof!" a male voice screamed from inside the car. The voice wasn't Stevens', so that was likely the driver. The car started swaying and doing twists and turns to throw him off. Thomas dug the fingers on his left hand into the metal of the roof, hanging on for dear life. The car came over the main expanse of the Presidium, and he was once more reminded of his hatred for heights. He dug his right hand into the roof as well, fingers ablaze with knife-point flames to secure a grip on the vehicle, regardless of eventual cuts. The car did a new twist, almost throwing him into the lakes far below. _Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit!_

Suddenly a fist punched through the roof where his right hand was warring for a grip. The fist retracted, allowing Thomas a hole to hang onto the car. Fucking Hell, this was so far beyond how he had pictured the day that it wasn't even remotely funny. His hands ablaze, he grabbed a hold of the roof the best he could, using it to hang on. The car did a new turn, almost turning itself around while maintaining speed.

The resulting tugs caused Thomas to release the roof as it simply detached from the rest of the car and flew away. Below it, Tyler was ready, pointing a Mattock at him. There was a little, purple symbol glowing above the weapon._ Oh for the love- _

The rifle spat rounds at him like a boxer delivering punches. Each Eezo-empowered round hit him like a kick from a horse, forcing Thomas to throw any idea of winning out the window. His barriers were having major trouble keeping up, and the shots drained him of energy faster than he had thought it possible. Fuck, the "divine" barrier was being rendered useless by phasic rounds from a regular rifle!

Useless against biotics of any kind…

Oh the disgrace!

Close to losing his grip from the sheer stress the slugs put on him, Thomas only realized a moment too late when Stevens sent a fist into his chest. The impact smashed through what was left of the barrier, and searing pain shot through his body as a bit of the chest-armor caved in, followed by a rib breaking with a crunch.

Drained of both air and energy, Thomas' fingers slipped from the speeding car. At the same time, the driver tipped the vehicle, effectively tipping him out as well. As he fell, Thomas managed to recognize something akin to equal surprise in Stevens' eyes.

Huh.

Then a wall greeted him with high speed, and the world went black with a lot of wet crunches accompanying it.

* * *

The Citadel, Serpent Nebula

Presidium

17:01

Running in heavy armor was never funny. Even with the servos in his armor doing most of the work for him, keeping up with Thomas was more or less a living, and running, hell on Earth. Well, technically the Citadel, but that would just sound weird. So, instead of complaining about the massive pain in the hairy butthole it was, Nikolai grabbed the rifle tighter and kept pumping his legs.

Really didn't do much difference in the end. Thomas was just too fast, and the group was left behind without sight of him. Christ, how fucking annoying could the day get? Nikolai started to utter his frustrations when the sound of weapons-fire ripped through the air close by. Jesus fuck, were people _shooting_ at them now?

As they rounded a new corner, shoving past the panicking civilians, Nikolai found Thomas again. And not in the way he had expected. The fiery dude was hanging onto a skycar in the air, his hands more or less on fire as he obviously struggled _not_ to get thrown off. Then the roof of the care flew off, followed by more gunshots ringing out in the usually calm Presidium air. Thomas seemed like he was a flickering candle of green for a moment, with the flames around him blazing and dying simultaneously in rapid succession.

The car swerved close enough to the ledges of the walkways that Nikolai could see the insides as well, just before the vehicle rose again, into the air above them. There were two people in the passengers seats, one of them pointing a gun at Thomas. _Shit, why isn't he just tearing the thing apart?_

The muscled Dane stopped running as the car did a more or less vertical climb above them, Thomas hanging on by the tip of his fingers apparently. Shit, this wasn't good. Those thoughts were the initial ones to pass his mind before something seemed to impact his friend in the chest. There was a loud crack of armor breaking. Then, the car yanked around and tipped outwards, and Thomas simply fell backwards.

_Oh… _

His thoughts more or less stopped there. Thomas was in high speed, horizontally and vertically both, away from the car. Yet it almost seemed to go into slow-motion as Thomas sailed through the air towards the surface of a wall.

…_Fucking…_

Thomas hit the wall with enough force that the crack of armor and crunch of something Nikolai didn't want to even consider was loud enough that to send shivers down his spine. His friend fell off the side of the wall, almost like he was glued to it. His face was bleeding, and the left arm seemed to have taken the brunt of the impact. It sort of just… hung on the wall like a sticky rope, the followed the rest of its owner downwards.

Nikolai's face contorted in fright behind his helmet as he helplessly watched his friend plummet towards the ground, twenty feet below;

"Shit!"

* * *

Galactic Republic.

Coruscant, Republic space

Jedi Temple

Around lunchtime.

Kasumi guided the flying car down in the hangar. The weather was nice as nice could be when there was no natural weather on the entire planet, blame pollution and lack of nature, and instead artificially created clouds were drifting across the adjusted and controlled blue skies. But to the naked eye, it was all just another pretty day on Coruscant.

The clones, and she had more or less come to terms with the frustrating fact that the Maori men themselves identified as being clones. As being something different from humans. Really, it was damn annoying. It pretty much went against her life-philosophy to treat a person as less than a person, which was why the entire "clone-equals-less-than-human" issue grated on her nerves. Even more so when Padme, a woman of obvious intellect, remained in its defense. Anyway, the clones were milling about with droids, tending to ships and moving crates in the hangar as she stepped from the car. Almost immediately, one of the muscled Maoris came up to her, wearing that dull grey uniform.

"Madam Ambassador Goto" She had no idea how the man knew her name; "Does your vehicle require refueling or repair?"

"Ah, nope. Just bought it, so I really hope not." she said, smiling brightly at the man; "But, do you know if Padawan Tano is in the temple?"

Kasumi wanted to see her newly returned friend. Ahsoka had been on another one of those long missions for the past week, and Kasumi had made sure she was notified the moment the alien girl returned to Coruscant. She gave her a few days to catch her breath, sure, but now she had plans to invite the girl out for launch.

Haul her out if need be.

Also, while she wanted to see her friend again for social reasons, she also possessed enough political skill to know that the sooner she could get Ahsoka on her side on the clone-matter, the sooner she could get Scarface-Skywalker on her side.

Unless he was already on Padme's side. That would be annoying, because Jedi apparently had more political clout than some politicians.

"Yes Madam Ambassador. I believe she is in the meditation-rooms." The man said. Kasumi had _no_ idea where that was. She nodded and smiled again.

"Thanks. Have a nice day, won't ya?" The man seemed a little surprised at the friendly and informal greeting, but managed a nod and a smile. Kasumi liked to spread a little appreciation in those poor boys' lives. They really deserved some smiling, even if most were unable to see that. Kasumi walked through the hangar, nodding brightly to both clones and civilians. The large room held both gunships, civilian shuttles and a few nimble-looking Jedi-fighters.

Then it blew up.

Which kinda sucked because she was standing right in the middle of it.

* * *

**Yeah. It has been far too long since we had some Kasumi-action, and now I think it's about time we got some. I loved those episodes by the way, and then they cancelled the show, and I was like "RAAAAAAAGEEEE!**


	19. Chief of the Relay

**Well, here is a chapter that many have been waiting for for some time. let's see what can be done with a new arrival, introduced to the boot of Roku, more or less, and helped along by Anna's crazed ideas.**

* * *

**Chief of the Relay**

* * *

Omega, Sahrabarik-system

Blue Suns compound, barracks.

20:11

There actually was a boring aspect to being a merc. Not many would have expected it, but when the Suns reorganized into what more or less perfectly mirrored the Alliance's military, the evenings became a lot less active. All one could do now was to get drunk, laid or just some sleep.

Magnus did neither, and instead lay on his cot, stripped down to his casual shorts and a white cotton-undershirt. At least Omega, with all the generators and engines running everywhere, wasn't cold in the evenings. His eyes examined the ceiling above him, tracing the plating of brown and worn metal. His mind, whereas it would often wander to his past life or imagining Tara naked, now found itself reexamining the insane meeting that had nearly cost him and Sidonis their lives, had it not been for the more than unexpected arrival.

"_What?"_

"_I said, can you please let me and the others the fuck free?" Magnus snapped, annoyed at the Turian. The name 'Sol' was fairly familiar, but he wasn't entirely sure he cared whether or not he knew her. _

"_Please, Sol." Sidonis asked; "The Suns have nothing to do with this. We're working towards the same goal as you."_

_There was a long pause, one Magnus in the end figured he didn't care to break. If there even was a boon to being trapped in Sol's field, it was that he didn't have to waste energy on standing. Still, he didn't complain when the Turian Cabal finally reached out and ripped the stasis-field away._

"_Spank you very much." He muttered under his breath as he shook some feeling back into his legs. They felt like he'd just woken up from a coma, and by the Aesir it was annoying. He then went to help Tremaine, gasping as the poor sod was on the ground. Apparently, he had a cold and had been frozen by the Seekers while his mouth was closed. Redder face Magnus had rarely seen_

"_Magnus, mind taking a few men to make sure the hostages get off station, then report back here?" the way Sidonis said it was more of a silent order than a request or a suggestion. Jeez, but there was something the Turian didn't want him to see or hear._

_Romantic stuff, perhaps?_

_Not that he really cared though. _

"_Right. You get all moochy and shit, we make sure business gets done." He said, giving the Turian a flat look that didn't extend beyond the optics of his helmet; "That's so not abuse of authority to send the men away while you get funny with women."_

"_She's not-!" Sidonis started protesting, apparently forgetting the fact that he could technically reprimand Magnus for lack of respect for a superior officer. The fact that he didn't, said enough_

"_Later." Magnus just waved off-handedly, grabbing his Mattock from the ground as he led the rest of the group the same way the hostages had left. _

_Later on, he found Sidonis hanging over one of the bars in the compound. The Cabal was nowhere to be seen, which actually made some sense since she would likely be frowned upon if not outright attacked. _

"_So…" Magnus said, sliding up to the counter. The bar wasn't really big, but it had charm and even a real TV hanging from the ceiling. A small sign with scrawled letters said 'please don't shoot the screen', which begged the question if people had a habit of targeting the TV when pissed. The numerous bullet-holes in the ceiling around the TV gave off the sense that people had been piss-drunk when they'd been shooting. _

_Figures._

"_I know what you're thinking…" the Turian muttered, talon tapping the side of a glass with green liquid._

"_That's a scary concept…" Magnus said with a wry smile on his lips, signaling the barkeep for a drink of his own; "How come you're not writhing with seizures then?"_

"_Sardonic humor. How come I am not- never mind." Sidonis shook his head; "I suppose you want an explanation for earlier."_

"_Was I really that obvious?" Magnus asked sarcastically, nodding a thanks at the barkeep as a dry whiskey was slid over the counter to him._

"_Do you remember when I went to that funeral?" Magnus nodded, sensing something deep-rooted on the way; "Garrus had a sister, well, has, seeing as she isn't dead."_

"_Right…" Shit, but he still felt like hell knowing that Garrus was dead. Fuck, he had all but forgotten about it, being a completely unexpected change in the timeline he knew. What was next, both Kaidan and Ashley being alive? Yep, because why not go all the way and take a dump on what he knew as-_

"_Her name is Solana."_

Yeah. That Cabal had been Garrus' sister. Garrus' _sister_ had been the one to potentially whoop his ass with little effort at all. It was actually kinda embarrassing. Magnus just sighed and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing.

"_Mortal."_

His eyes flew open, scanning the small room that was his, and five others', for the source of the voice. There _had_ been a voice, hadn't there? A woman's voice?

"Who's there?" he asked the room, hoping it wasn't the start of another Jane-related nightmare. If so, he was just going to hide under the covers until it all went away.

He couldn't take shooting the illusions again.

But no more voices came that night.

* * *

Well, this was starting to become a bad habit. Waking up in a strange, new bed, looking at unknown ceiling while not knowing where he was. Pain in some areas of his body, while others were senseless or tingling from waking up. The sensation of an IV-tube somehow stuck in his right arm. His mouth felt like cotton, and not because it was soft.

Pretty much how he had spent quite a few wake-ups over the previous months.

Only, this time he could feel a humming around him. It took him a while to figure out that the humming was actually from the engine of a ship. Had to be a small ship then. Was it the one they had flown in on?

His mind was too sluggish to really care much.

And so, he simply drifted off back to sleep.

* * *

The next time consciousness returned to him, it was…much more cold. It was cold, and it was pressing all around, like he was swimming in water. The water just felt a lot less water-ish than it should, and as he tried moving in the strange, azure liquid, it seemed to restrict his left arm's movements. That was annoying, and he couldn't really feel his skin at all, like he had been frozen all over before waking up. Maybe that had been why he woke up?

The thing was, he couldn't see through the weird water. It was all around him, and there was light in it, but it seemed like an impenetrable wall of liquid, gel almost, that wouldn't allow him to see through it. Was he in an infinite ocean? Was he covered by a centimeter-thick layer of the gel? He really didn't know. It was actually pretty damn annoying, but at least he wasn't about to drown.

That was nice enough.

Then he realized with a slow, sluggish mind, that the light was coming from himself. He couldn't be bothered to look around or move his head, but he could see his right arm floating before him, glowing lines and symbols illuminating the immediate liquid.

It was nice to look at.

Then he fell asleep again.

* * *

February 29th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Medical Facility, Governmental Section

12:08

Anna stood next to one of the large tanks, eyes going occasionally to where Williams was standing, looking at the same tank as her. There was a strained expression on the younger woman's face something just screaming 'worry'. Understandable, really. Anna felt the same way about seeing an unconscious Thomas floating naked-sans-smallclothes in the bacta.

_Bacta. Now there's a brilliant invention. Well okay, so it wasn't brilliant enough when Goto got me the plans for the tanks, but I _made_ it fucking brilliant. Mixture of Medigel and Bacta, now there's an even more brilliant thing than sliced bread._

He had been in the tank for the past eight days, having been hauled straight from the ship to this very room without even losing time on the toilet. Well, okay he technically couldn't go to the toilet… what would happen if he woke up and needed to go? Anna shook her head at the thought, amusing and scarring both as it was.

Another scarring thing was the fact that what remained of his left arm was stuffed in a trashbin somewhere around here. Now, his left shoulder ended in a metallic plasti-polymerid socket with slide-able sections allowing for insertion of a new limb. That Emhart guy really knew his stuff, she had to admit that. He'd given Thomas a mere bionic limb meant for extra endurance, and it had seen him through missions that would have killed more experienced soldiers. Whatever the doctor was whipping up this time, he'd been ordered to do it military-style.

Hadn't Captain Shepard been given something similar? _I wonder if she's been given the in-built knee-gun. I am so getting one if I ever lose a leg._

"Admiral?"

Maybe she could get Thomas a new arm with an in-built flamethrower? Those were quite handy if… oh wait, he did already know how to make fire.

"Admiral?"

An in-built minigun maybe? You could always use a minigun in a tight spot.

"_Admiral?_"

Yes. Yes that might be an idea. Heh. It would definitely be a cool change.

"Admiral Fisher?"

"Oh, yeah. Yes of course." She immediately agreed to whatever question had been asked, then realized that Williams had been the one to ask. Oh. That meant it was probably important; "What?"

"Thomas is sleeping semi-naked in a fish-tank. _Why_ are you grinning?" the woman asked with a scowl forming. A protective streak maybe? One would think Ashley would be used to seeing her boyfriend hospitalized. Really, it wasn't that bad. The woman in Anna could at least see what Williams found attractive in her brother. Abs, for one.

A thing that also caused her some concern was that countless civilians on the Citadel would have seen the spectacle. Fuck Jack for messing around with her people like that. Paranoid idiot should just obey _her_, but he seemed to believe otherwise, hence why he hadn't answered the phone the last ten times she called.

"Oh nothing. Just going over badass replacements for his arm…" She said, tapping an idle finger on her cheek. She then started fingering her auburn hair; "You think we might snap of the other arm too? Get an extra bionic limb on?"

The glare Williams sent her was enough that she discarded the idea; "Fine, I get it… But damn if he doesn't spend a lot of time unconscious."

"He _lost_ an arm." Williams stated passionately; "Your _brother_ lost his arm. _Again_, and this is your reaction?"

"These days, that's just a flesh-wound." Anna shrugged.

"He hit a _building_."

"He's a Fisher. We're hard to kill off." The admiral shrugged again, then shook her head as she realized something; "Okay, so we seem to die off at times. _But_-" She held up a finger; "We don't. _stay_. dead."

"I…that doesn't even make sense." Ashley retorted angrily; "Thomas doesn't have Roku in him anymore. He's as mortal as you and me."

"Mortality can be a bitch, agreed." Anna nodded; "Still, take your pleasures where you can. I know I do, and I'd want a minigun in my arm if I lost it."

"_Admiral?"_ Anna's brows arched as Price's voice came in her ear. He sure had a thing for timing, that one.

"Hold on." She waved Williams off, then pressed the ear-piece; "Alright. I'm standing watch over my hospitalized brother with his pissed-off girlfriend getting on my case over it. This better be good."

"_We're ready to take Project Relay for a test-spin."_ Price said, his voice neutral despite the scientific breakthrough he was mentioning. Really, what was he, a machine?

Oh yeah. Right.

"Good enough for me." Anna grinned and more or less fled he room, leaving Williams with some privacy. As Anna left, she failed to see Thomas' eyes open slowly, and his expression change as he saw her run out the door.

Right now, she really didn't even have him in mind though. Instead, she was fully focused on the fact that Relay was ready for testing. Months of work was about to either pay of, or turn out to be a waste of money. It would _really_ be a shitty day if the latter was the case.

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Test Facility 5, Scientific Section

13:36

Since she hadn't actually _seen_ the device before, Anna was a bit taken aback when she'd stepped through the large double-doors of the test-chambers. The place was _huge_. It was easily as big as many of the larger buildings in the civilian and governmental sectors both. She could have fired a gun in there, and heard the _ping_ of the bullet long after the _bang_ of the gun.

In the center, making up the gathering point of thousands of cables, was a ring. It wasn't a small ring, at all. It made up about half the room, filling out some twenty meters across. Really, it was excessively big compared to Goto's. The girl could keep her teleporter on her wrist, Anna needed an entire room dedicated to a machine that maybe, maybe not, would work.

Damn.

Really, that was about the only way to describe the situation.

D-_fucking_-amn.

"Alright, spin it up people. Chop, chop." She barked, watching the scientists scurry about like frightened chickens. Like she' just thrown the leftovers from yesterdays spaghetti amongst them, then scared them and now they didn't know whether to flee or eat.

The lights in the room dimmed slightly, long rows of LED-lights going off in a wave. Really, it was quite pretty. It was all accompanied by a low hum that built up as the massive ring started spinning in a circle around itself, rotating with a speed that started out slow, but soon spun faster than any details on it allowed to be seen.

Kinda like the wheels on a bike.

As the very air in the room vibrated with the speed from the Eezo-infused ring of rare-earths, Anna could feel her hair stand more or less straight. _Probably look like Frankenstein's bride. Heh. Feels kinda funny._

"Activating artificial gravity!" Someone yelled as Anna could feel weightlessness start to kick in. Almost immediately, she could feel the weight start settling again, and her arms, which had been playing "floaty" from the start, went back down. Aw.

"Gravity in place." Another called out; "Raising rings" Wait. Ring_s_? As in plural?

As Anna looked on, the first ring started rising from the floor, revealing a sibling-ring beneath it, spinning the opposite direction with just as much speed. She let out a low whistle, which came out kinda robot-ish due to the vibrating air. It was pretty damn impressive, and as the rings rose up, they stood the same twenty meters vertically, spinning like the freaking wheels of death.

"Readings going up." One of the eggheads called out; "Adjusting for power-output."

"Power's keeping steady."

"Readings rising." A tone of slight urgency; "Adjust."

"Adjusting."

"Still rising."

"Adjusting."

"Going above bars. Adjust!"

"Adjusting, adjusting!"

Anna found herself biting her knuckles as the dimmed lighting went into a red glow. From the sound of things, the eggheads were starting to get agitated. God, if something went wrong, an Eezo-implosion or explosion could rip the whole section apart, if not the whole station! Thousands and thousands of lives lost! A black hole could be created! Hundreds of warships lost before the Reapers even arrived! She could end up endangering the entire-

"Readings are stabilizing."

"Power-output normal."

…Oh. Well, what was she so worried about anyway? The eggheads had it under control. There really was no way things could go wrong. Not when she had poured more or less all her cash into this shit. The Alliance hadn't wanted to fund her "ridiculous" and "insane" projects. Who was laughing now, huh?

_I'll show them. I'll show them all!_

"Rings keeping steady at five-hundred rotations per second."

"Raise to seven."

"Raising to seven. Stand by." The call went out, and the air vibrated with an increased hum as the rings spun faster. The air around them started simmering in the heat.

"Steady at seven."

"Eezo-levels increasing. Increase power-output?"

"Increase. Keep gravitational levels regular."

Damn. Anna felt kinda super proud at seeing the eggheads jump around like bugs on a frying-pan. Really smart bugs on a high-tech frying-pan. The rings spun faster than she could even be bothered trying to follow, and instead Anna just stood there and looked at it all.

Like a film, a blue haze started forming inside the rings, arcs of electricity jumping across the span with an increasing pace. Damn. Damn. Damn, if this wasn't just some piece of super-awesome science right here.

"Rings steady."

"Confirmed. Gravitational film complete."

"Rip complete." The closest egghead called, then looked at Anna; "Admiral. We're ready."

"Fucking A. About damn time." She said, wiping a bead of sweat from her cheek; "So… how's this thing work?"

The scientist looked at her all confused. What? They'd damn well better know how to operate this thing, or the entire mechanism would just be one giant piece of anti-gravity boy-dream. God, was she dealing with incompetents?

Luckily, Price chose that moment to show up, a projection carried around by a small drone. He was actually standing, full height, right next to her. Anna's brows arched. This certainly called for an arched eyebrow, maybe even two.

"Glad to see it worked." Price said, nodding at the eggheads before looking at her; "Short version is that we rip a hole in the fabric of space and time by tearing antimatter apart in a suspended field. That's the haze you can see, by the way."

"…oh." Anna said with a befuddled voice; "That's… kinda cool."

"Destroying accepted physics, and all she says is 'it's cool'." Price remarked sardonically. Anna just shrugged; "I swear, sometimes I don't feel appreciated."

"Welcome to my world the last forty years, Price."

"That's because you cut people's balls off." The AI shot back; "I actually took science to the next level here. At least a 'thanks' would be nice."

"Well… thanks." Anna muttered, a little embarrassed; "Really, this is super awesome."

Price just grunted, like he used to, and started walking towards the spinning rings. Anna just kinda followed him, trailing after the AI like a puppy.

"So… can we use it? Now?" She asked as Price was silent. The AI flashed yellow as he actually stumbled, turning an aghast glare at her.

"Are you insa-…Never mind." He stopped himself; "No, we can't send a human through yet."

"What then?"

The AI gestured towards a small table at the wall, where an oversized space-hamster was nomming away at a piece of dried-up corn, wearing a collar decked with sensors and what-not.

"Him."

Oh God.

It was _super-cute_. As in just all snuggly-huggly cute. The fact that space-hamsters grew to the size of Labradors only made it better as the furball turned its black, shiny eyes towards her, nose wiggling and sniffling all cute.

"Oh-My-God-It's-the-cutest-thing-ever!" The high-ranking, sixty-four year old, galaxy-widely feared Alliance officer squealed, already at a run towards the rodent, which was then promptly picked up and hugged; "I haven't had one of these since I was, like, seven!" She looked into the black eyes of the hamster, sharing an intimate, attentive moment with the animal; "I am naming you…Steven."

"…you are naming a space-hamster after your uncle?" Price muttered; "Really?"

"Shut up." She looked back at the hamster; "You wanna help me do science, huh, Steven? I'll give you a _huge_ apple if you do. _And_ some nuts."

Steven sniffled and rustled his nose all cute and stuff, whiskers going around like, really fast. He was the size of a Labrador, weighed like a huge bunny and overall just was the most adorable piece of black-eyed fur with paws. Then his small pink tongue shot out, licking his teeth before going on to the nose.

And Anna was _sold_.

"Oh my God!" She squealed, clutching him even tighter; "Did you guys just see that? Oh-my-God-He's-so-fucking-cute!"

Price didn't seem to share the same feeling about the space-hamster. He just grunted all soldier-like and nodded like it was to be expected that Anna would absolutely love the cuddly rodent. Well, maybe it sorta _was_ to be expected, but still.

"Right." He drawled on the word; "we're sending the hamster-"

"Steven."

"…Sending 'Steven' in through the portal." Price conceded with a sigh; "If all goes well, he should appear safely on the other side, then eventually wander-"

"Admiral! Readings are spiking!"

"Reduce input! _Reduce_ _Input_!"

"What the hell is going on?!"

"Something's wrong with the rings!"

Anna stood momentarily stunned, hamster in her arms like a child as she stared at the eggheads. All of a sudden, they were all panicking, and the blue-ish haze between the rings changed to an angry red color, wringing itself like a sheet of paper, complete with lines as if it was a solid surface. She nearly dropped Steven in sheer surprise when arcs of lightning started shooting across the surface of the haze, forming a crisscross pattern. Where the arcs met in the center, a new, radiant ring formed and expanded outwards.

Anna more or less just stared.

Price more or less just stared.

The scientists more or less just panicked.

"Shut it down." She ordered. As nothing happened to stop the rings, Anna felt a shiver down her spine; "I said: Shut it down!"

"We don't know how!"

"We've shut down power-influx to the rings." A man called in a more or less collected tone; "Nothing's working! It's feeding from something immensely powerful on the other side!"

On the other side. The _other side_. There actually _was_ an 'other side' to this. God, what had she done? And what the hell could power the rings from this 'other side'? It took an entire nuclear plant to power it from here, what the hell was on the other side then?

"Readings going_ above_ levels!"

"Shut it down! Shut it _down_!"

"Shit, shit, shit…" Anna bit her knuckles while holding onto Steven, then yelled to the scientists; "Increase the fucking dampeners!"

"Dampeners already working at maximum safet-"

"Increase them, you fucking nitwits!"

"…Increasing Dampeners to hundred-ten percent!" The scientist yelled back, and a deep baritone rumble filled the room, slowly replacing the thundering vibrations. Good. Anna had been close to losing her footing. Steven was struggling in her grasp, panicking from the unnatural events. Anna held on to him though. No way another hamster was going to disappear into some vent-never-to-be-seen-again. Dad had been pissed about that one.

"…good." She sighed, exhaling as the vibrating air slowed to a more bearable humming. Anna pulled a breath to calm her nerves, while simultaneously trying to will the migraine away; "Fuck, my head is killing me now…"

"Well, that was unpleasant." Price muttered, his projection slightly darkened in color as he looked at the portal. The lightning was still spinning around, forming something alike a hole in reality between the rings. There was no color at all in the interspace, just the pulsating feeling of raw energy.

"No shit." Anna agreed, then turned towards the eggheads; "Is the portal open?"

The universe decided to answer her in an unexpected manner. Before the scientists had a chance to reply, the rings more or less vomited a surge of red, biotic-ish energy outwards like the splash of stone hitting water, just vertically. The surge went almost ten meters out, then snapped back into the rings faster than the eye could register.

In the place of the stretching film, something was left in place of it.

Hovering in the air, some five meters up, a two-meter suit of green, bulky humanoid armor was hanging there. Limp, motionless and charred with scorch marks all over from head to toe, the armored form then dropped unceremoniously to the ground where it impacted with a heavy thud and clatter of solid metal on metal. _Christ, what's that… thing, weigh? A ton?_

Holy Shit, it was a person!

And the person wasn't moving!

Holy. Shit…

"Get security and a medic in here!" She didn't even wait to check on the person, what-or-whomever it was. Alarms went off while she dropped Steven and rushed towards the still form, allthewhile doing her best to keep some distance to the portal; "And shut that thing down. Pull the plug, disconnect or something!"

"Cutting all feeds."

"Forced embedding in progress."

As she reached the still figure, Anna knelt next to the helmeted head. It was really weird because the helmet actually went a lot higher than a regular one would, so the position was awkward. The armor looked extremely heavy, and there was nothing to be seen through the polarized, golden visor. Shit, the whole thing was more or less a drugged-up version of the Bulwark with an eco-touch to it.

She tapped the visor; "He-"

The armored hand shot up and grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip. It all happened so fast Anna didn't realize it before she felt her bones breaking beneath the iron-fist.

"AAAAHH! _FUCK_! LET GO OF ME YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!" She screamed, pulling at her wrist. It was really more surprise and shock than pain. Still hurt like a bitch though.

The figure on the floor seemed to stare at her, even though she couldn't see anything through it.

"…Whe…re…" a deep, gravely voice wheezed behind the helmet.

"Let. _Go_. Of me!" Anna snarled, taking her free hand from her caught one, snapped it to her waist and pulled out her sidearm. She then pressed the formerly-concealed Carnifex against the golden visor. Armored glass, diamond or whatever, a hypersonic slug would punch through at this close.

"…Whhhh…" The man, apparently, wheezed in clear pain. Suddenly, the grip slacked; "…Hal…sey?"

"Calm down." Anna ordered in spite of her pained wrist as the scientists started forming a circle around them. Price stood in complete silence, jaw dropped and eyes wide; "Do you. Understand. Me?"

Complete silence from the hulking suit of armor. Anna gingerly retracted her hand, wincing in pain while waiting for the medics to show up. Security, which had been waiting just outside the room (in case something like a Rachni got through) was now positioned around them, keeping the scientists away while she sat there.

"Fucking…Bloody Hell…" Price finally breathed out, his entire posture completely slack and startled; "What…_How?_"

"What." Anna spoke flatly to the AI's projection. Didn't matter that his "ears" were technically every device able to record sound. She spoke to what she saw as the person.

"That's…" Price trailed off. He then suddenly vanished in a _zap_ from sight. Anna just stared at where he had been, where the drone still hung silently in the air. A few seconds went by, then an obviously and clearly distraught Price reappeared; "That's 117!"

Anna looked at him. Then at this '117', and then back at the AI.

"Turn him over! Turn him over!" Price actually yelled. He'd almost never yelled before now. What had him so…Wait. Price _knew_ this… person? At her hesitation, Price grew even more agitated; "NOW Goddammit!"

Anna set to, but found '117' to be far too heavy. With a shake of her intact hand, she ordered the security to help her turn over the supersized and super heavy soldier over. He rolled onto his front with a low groan, but didn't move. Price was over the back of the man's helmet instantly;

"Get the disk out!"

"…disk?" Anna said in confusion, looking over the helmet's backside. There _was_ a small, rectangular thing sticking out. It was an identical match of Price's disk, meaning this, coupled with Price knowing the man, meant it was likely the container for an AI. Yay logic. Price vanished again, only to reappear a moment late; "You've _got_ to stop doing-"

"Grab the disk! Get it to Cole's labs!" Price shouted as the small disk suddenly ejected from the helmet. Anna nodded and pulled the small blue-box out. Instead of giving it to one of the security, she pocketed the disk and turned to the rest of the group;

"Get… _117_, to the hospital. Solitary. Quarantine, full FC-protocol. I want armed guards at all times. Move it!" Without even stopping to see her orders being carried out, Anna started running at a full sprint towards the labs. There was the familiar buzz of Price's presence in her ear-piece.

"Run _faster._" He growled.

"Price-" she was already starting to pant. Shit, she was out of shape; "What exactly- is in- this- thing?"

"…Cortana."

"Come again?" Anna huffed as she rounded a corner; "I thought- you said she- died at some- point?"

There was a long pause where the only sound was her boot hitting the ground. People gave her space as she ran, most of them with frightful looks due to her reputation. Fine, whatever. She only needed them out of the way. The labs where Cole worked was close by, but still a fair ways away.

"She did." He muttered; "And she is dying _now_."

"Wait-What?" Anna was more than confused now; "What do you- mean?"

"Cortana is undergoing Rampancy." Price pressed as if every child and hamster would understand. Well, Steven might, but she didn't. Anna kept on running, accidentally knocking over a Quarian marine talking to someone else. Human, that was all she saw; "It means her software is rapidly degenerating."

"Oh fuck- me…" she growled and huffed, slowing to a jog. It wasn't because she wasn't in a hurry, but her heart just couldn't take that kind of stress; "That's bad."

"So _fucking_ hurry up." The AI growled. It was fairly obvious that he was more than impatient; "I've already contacted Cole."

"Figured- you had." It just seemed like him to do stuff before she even told him to. Jeez, if Price wasn't even _meant_ to be an assistant, what would this 'Cortana' be capable of then?

She more or less kicked the door in to Cole's labs.

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Medical Facility 5-A, Secured Trauma Cell 2

15:12

Colonel Exar Kun stepped inside the small section separating the isolative cell from the rest of the clinic. Behind him stood Lieutenant Bradly from Alliance Intelligence, and Major Thronthey from the Xenoscience division. Kun himself was there for the main purpose of attempting an interrogation. The man on the other side of the armored glass was a complete unknown, and nothing Kun knew to draw on could tell him what to make of this '117'-character.

While the medics had managed to pry the massive helmet off, the rest of the armor had been more than problematic. As such, the armored, bald soldier was lying on the floor, strapped down with titanium restraints. He seemed like he was starting to wake up. Kun sighed inwardly at the situation as a whole. _The Force moves in mysterious ways, true._

Things had been _so_ much more simple back when it was just Dark versus Light side.

While his guns were left on the table behind the secured door, his custom-made pair of vibro-blades were concealed beneath his uniform. Things went south, he could draw them in a heartbeat. Things went _really_ bad, he could pin the guy to the wall with a smack of his hand. Unless of course the unknown weighed the same as a tank. Then it would be more like a fist he needed.

Still, should be…manageable.

"Remember: No sudden movements. No hostile expressions and no show of aggression, nor weakness." He said. Both men nodded silently. Good, he had no use for otherwise. But really, why wasn't the Admiral here? Far as he knew, this was _her_ experiment.

Kun palmed the interface for the door, waiting for it to slide fully open before moving forward. The officers followed him inside, making no sound beyond the soft tacking of shoes on floor. When he entered, the stranger on the floor seemed to snap awake, or maybe he had been awake for some time. The former Sith dared not reach out with the Force, in case this newcomer could sense it.

He did _not_ want that part of his life out in the open.

The trio of officers stopped after the door, waiting for it to lock back up before proceeding. The room wasn't small by any means, and was a dull white all over. Personally, he didn't get the purpose of the odd paint-job, but then again, he wasn't getting paid for his opinion on interior design. Five meters from the entrance, they stopped before the lying form of the soldier.

He looked _pissed_. Pissed, but disciplined.

"Who are you?" the man demanded. Well, that answered that question. The man spoke English. _Well. Some things are going our way at least…_

"Colonel Exar Kun, Systems Alliance of Humanity and Quarians." He replied firmly; "Who are _you_?"

The man just stared at him. Kun was starting to get the impression that the soldier didn't understand or comprehend his words. Great. _Force me…_

"_Where's_ Cortana?" the man demanded with a voice like the ancient Jedi. Force, but he _radiated_ strength. He actually held a presence, even on the floor, that made the colonel wary. _Cortana?_

"Cortana?"

"WHERE IS SHE?!" the soldier known to Exar only as '117' roared, fighting his restraints. Kun glanced at the titanium, just to make sure they held.

"You were the only one through the portal." He said, trying to calm the man down. 117's eyes were wide in what looked like panic. Felt like it too, and there was not even the need for Kun to feel the Force to know it.

"No, No, No!" 117 exclaimed; "My AI! She's nearing the end of rampancy- I can't stay- WHERE IS SHE?!"

Oh. Cortana was his AI. The Admiral had taken a disk similar to Price's bluebox, hadn't she?

"Admiral Fisher retrieved your AI." He said; "According to my information, they are trying to repair some sort of damage to i- her."

He didn't fully understand how to approach the admiral's AI to begin with. Artificial intelligence was sort of a grey area, as the Force didn't surround what wasn't alive, yet the AI was sentient. VI's were more simple. Just programming.

The news at least seemed to calm the soldier down a little. Kun decided he'd try again;

"Who are you? Name, rank, affiliation?"

"Petty… Officer Master Chief 117." 'Master Chief' answered firmly, if with some hesitation. His voice was completely level again, as if he'd never even been upset. Exar blinked a few times.

"And, affiliations?"

"Petty Officer Master Chief 117." The Chief repeated. The colonel palmed his forehead as he realized what this was. He was being stonewalled by a soldier who only said what he had the duty to say. Really.

"Look." Kun said, doing his best to send calming waves through the Force. He hunched down to get more on level with the Master Chief; "You are _not_ a prisoner"

"I am restrained and under interrogation." The soldier replied flatly.

"That is… while we try to find out how to deal with the situation."

"The Didact." Kun blinked again in confusion. What by Sith was 'the Didact'?

"Not…exactly." Oh Force. Why was he the one stuck with this _osik_? "What is the last thing you remember?"

"The Didact on his way to Earth… and, a sharp light." The last bit was uttered with some confusion; "Where am I?"

"Arcturus Station, located in the Arcturus Stream just outside the Sol system." There was more confusion in the man's dark eyes; "You are in the custody of the Systems Alliance, under the directive of project 'Relay'."

"…what"

"This may come as a shock to you, Chief." Kun breathed; "During the test-run of project 'Relay', a hole was ripped open in the barriers between universes. Wherever you come from, you are not there anymore."

The soldier didn't reply. From the looks of it, this was because he was too stunned to speak. Force, but this was going to be interesting.

"You mentioned Earth, so I am going to assume you were in the Sol system." The former Sith tried. He received nothing but a very weak nod; "You are a soldier?"

"Yes."

Okay, so a short reply. Still, he was getting somewhere.

"From what faction?" he asked calmly. Behind him, the two officers hadn't made a move or a sound yet.

"The United Nations Space Command." 'Chief' said. He then struggled against his restraints again. Kun's eyes narrowed in concern as the sound of metal straining, _straining_, could be heard; "Are you going to unlock my restraints?"

"Soon enough." Kun assured him; "First we need to ensure you are no threat to the Alliance."

"And then you will allow me to see to Cortana?" it was actually more of a statement than a question. Exar nodded, it was a fair request after all; "What do you want me to do?"

"Thronthey." Kun motioned for the xenoscientist to step forward, then turned back towards 'Chief'; "Major Thronthey will take a blood-sample from your neck. Meanwhile, why don't you tell me your real name?"

"…John-117" John-117 breathed out in frustration as Thronthey gently extracted a sample of blood from the muscled soldier. The colonel nodded as Thronthey stepped away from John.

"Pleasure to meet you, John." Kun nodded respectfully; "Now, the Alliance consists of two species as of now. Humanity and the Quarians. Seeing as you come from the Sol system, I take it you know of the Quarians?"

"No. Were they part of the Covenant before joining your Alliance?"

"Actually they were roaming the galaxy in exile for the last three-hundred years." Kun tapped a finger on his knee; "So you do not know of the Quarians. Do you then know of the Citadel, the Turians, Asari or Salarians?"

"No."

"I see."

"Why am I here?" The question took the post-Sith slightly by surprise. Of course, it was a completely logical thing to ask for. The problem was that Exar Kun didn't know all the details of what had occurred in the test facility. What he knew was purely second-hand related to him by Price. Damn AI had just failed to mention what Cortana was.

Kun gestured for his two subordinates to leave the room.

"To be honest with you, I do not know all the details." He sighed as he knelt down in a more comfortable, meditative position; "What I do know is that the test-run was not supposed to have produced anything like this."

"Test-run of what?"

"Project 'Relay'." Kun answered him off-handed; "The project itself is classified beyond that."

"Why was it enacted?" John-117 demanded; "Why did it take me from my home?"

"John." The post-Sith started slowly. The man's dark eyes locked onto his; "Are you a religious person?"

The larger soldier blinked several times before shaking his head, as much as he could while restrained anyway.

"I see." Kun muttered. The concept of what they were up against had made _him_ discard all ties to the Sith he once held allegiance to. Whatever happened now in Andromeda, he had more pressing concerns here; "Do you know what it feels like to face a foe, possibly numerous as the stars, and each like a cosmic force of nature?"

"More or less." 117 admitted slowly; "The Covenant was close to wiping out humanity several times. So was the Flood."

"The Covenant." Kun said with slight curiosity. He guessed the 'Flood' would have to be something of natural occurrence, maybe cosmic radiation; "Who were they, or it?"

"An alliance of zealous aliens who viewed humanity as an affront to their faith."

"I see." The colonel paused for a moment, pondering how to broach the subject properly; "What we face is… more substantial than that."

"Explain."

"A faction known as the Reapers marches on the galaxy." He knew this, yet when he said it out loud it still gave the former Sith a cold shiver down his spine; "It took hundreds of warships to kill just one of them, a few months back."

"Kill?"

"True. The Reapers were at first thought to be mere ships." He pulled an image from his Omnitool and hovered it above his wrist for John-117 to see; "However, the truth is… far more disturbing."

"How?" Force, but this soldier was a man of few words alright.

"Intelligence from encounters with the Reapers… revealed they were alive." And here came the part oh so few believed; "They are, what we assume at least, ethereal beings who have taken physical forms for unknown purposes, and now harvest the galaxy for life with interludes spanning some fifty-thousand years between each "cycle", as their vanguard called it."

John-117 didn't respond. He just _looked_ at Exar in a way that conveyed doubt and pondering if the colonel was under the influence of drugs.

"I understand not believing this." He hurried to say; "but it _is_ the horrible truth."

"…is this why 'Relay' was enacted?"

"Among other projects, yes." Kun nodded; "Admiral Anna Cologne Fisher is head of the unofficial Anti-Reaper preparations, and as such has started a wide search for cutting-edge technology and innovative ideas on warfare. As a "result" of project 'Relay', you will answer to her, if you choose to make yourself an asset to humanity and the galaxy at large."

"Understood."

"…really?" he hadn't expected it to sink in that fast. At best he'd have given the newcomer a few days to process the whole scenario.

"If what you say is true, I can no longer assist in the defense of Earth from the Didact." John grumbled, dark eyes never leaving Kun's; "I was trained with the defense of Humanity, Earth and all her colonies in mind. That has not changed."

"That is… unexpectedly good news." Exar nodded to himself just as much as to 117; "I had not expected you to agree so quickly."

"Save Cortana and I will meet with your Admiral." It was so final that Kun almost didn't speak up. Still, he wasn't going to get silenced just like that.

"You already met her." He said, a small hint of protective anger flaring behind his eyes. A yellow note, a mere speck was visible in his iris for a moment.

"When?"

"When you broke her wrist." The angry note slipped out with the words, causing Kun to hiss and take a breath. Find _peace_ in the Force, _not_ anger. He'd left the anger behind when Sovereign attacked the Citadel, and the scale of things became visible.

In comparison, the war of domination in the Andromeda paled beside the impending war of survival here.

The Master Chief didn't speak. He didn't look ashamed either, but rather contemplative. Kun decided to move on;

"Your armor." He said, gesturing at the hulking suit; "I assume it is a form of power-armor?"

The Chief nodded slowly, guarded.

"We were unable to pry more than your helmet off." The colonel said; "What specifications, abilities and defensive measures does it hold?"

"Information concerning UNSC military technology is classified" John-117 stated. It more or less sounded like it was rehearsed; "I do not have the right nor duty to release information of that degree or character at this time."

"So essentially you want us to deliver before you give in."

"Yes." To which Exar Kun ran a hand through his short hair. Force, had he found a rule-book or a soldier? At least it was clear that this newcomer was no mere grunt. The colonel breathed calmly and stood;

"In that case, I will let the Admiral know of your decision." He said, watching as the armored man struggled in his restraints again.

"How long do you intend to keep me like this?"

"Until your full cooperation has been secured." Kun stated. John glared at him;

"Not until Cortana has recovered fully."

"Then we will let you out at that time." He said, looking down at the large soldier on the ground; "For your sake then, just calm down until the Admiral comes here. Food will be brought, and a nurse will come by to check on your injures soon."

With those words, he left the room. As the door hissed shut behind him, Kun nodded to a nurse standing off to the side with a datapad; "Make sure he doesn't start trashing in his restraints. If he does, gas the room and have security reinforce the locks."

"Yes sir." The man replied. Kun nodded to himself and left to find the Admiral. She was hopefully in Cole's labs, seeing as he had no desire having to track down the eccentric woman on a station with a hundred thousand residents.

* * *

Galactic Republic

Coruscant, Republic Space

Senatorial Hospital.

_Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep_

What an annoying tone. Wait. Who had changed her alarm to an annoying beep-beep tone? She hadn't done so herself, that much she damn well knew.

Wait.

Hadn't there been an explosion? Something had blown up, she was relatively certain something had blown up. So, where did that leave her?

Opening her eyes to slap the Omnitool's interface to turn off the alarm. Instead, her hand got tangled up in something that felt like plastic strings, which then suddenly pulled at her nose. Kasumi gasped in shock as her hand suddenly tore something long and stringy from the inside of her nose. It felt like it was dragged through her wind-pipe.

"Gah!" she coughed up slime as the plastic-tubes left her nose, the pain and scratching sensation driving out all weariness. It just left her coughing as doctors came rushing into the room. Wait. Why was there- _where_ was she?

"Calm down, Ambassador." A soothing, female voice urged; "Take easy breaths and don't tear out the drops." The nurse had the same skin-color as Chuchi, but a pair of head-tails that marked her as the same kind of alien as Ayla. A Twi'lek, was that it?

"What… Where am- I?" she coughed up more slime, her throat feeling like parchment. Something cool and nice was placed on her throat, hugging more than clinging to it. It felt like gel. Nice.

"The hospital, ma'am." The woman said; "there was a bombing in the Jedi-temple."

Kasumi sat up with a snap, wincing as her sore body protested the action. At least it didn't feel like anything was broken. The alien woman looked over a holographic datapad;

"You broke three ribs in the attack, ma'am."

"Ouch…" Kasumi muttered. She oddly enough didn't _feel_ like she had any broken bones; "Wait, attack?"

"Yes madam Ambassador." The nurse nodded; "two days ago the Jedi Temple was bombed. I don't… Ma'am?"

Kasumi didn't blame the nurse for staring in confusion as she vaulted out of bed, ignoring the pain through gritted teeth. She also ignored the fact that she was dressed in nothing but her underwear and a strange kind of hospital-gown. Looked more like a toga, really.

"Where's my clothes?"

"I… Ambassador, you really shouldn't be out of bed." The nurse protested. Kasumi gave her a sweet smile, because the nurse was really just doing her job.

"I know, but be a peach and help me find my stuff, won't ya?" she tilted her head, figuring she could maybe charm the nurse into compliance.

It worked.

Ten minutes later, Kasumi Goto de-cloaked outside the front of the gigantic facility, dusting off her suit. The formal attire had apparently been ripped to shreds in the explosion, which was a blessing in disguise (she really couldn't stand the thing, but couldn't tell Padme that because they were friends even though they disagreed) and so she was once more back in the old uniform.

God, it felt good to be back in something _practical_.

"Alright…" she breathed, bringing her Omnitool up. The thing was damn sturdy, and good thing too. It was her only link between here and home. Browsing the addresses, she found the one she was looking for and called it up.

It called.

And called.

And called. Kasumi chewed her lip in anticipation. Ahsoka was probably (hopefully) extremely concerned for her health and would be glad to hear her voice.

"Who is this?" The voice of a clone was _definitely_ not what she had expected. Kasumi looked at the number again. Right there, it said 'Ahsoka Tano'. What was going on?

"Uh… this is Ambassador Kasumi Goto… did I get a wrong number or something?" she tried. There was a pause on the other end, something that sounded like shuffling, then someone spoke to someone in the background.

"Ambassador Goto, this is Commander Fox of the Coruscanti Guard."

"Fox? What are you… since when did you become a commander?" Kasumi's confusion momentarily overpowered the desire to speak to Ahsoka.

"Ma'am, I'm not trooper Fox who escorted you." The voice said; "I am Commander Fox, head of the Coruscanti Guard, and currently you are contacting me through a confiscated comm-device."

"…Oh." Well, that was awkwa- wait what? "What do you mean 'confiscated'? What's going on?"

"Ma'am, you are aware that the person suspected of the temple-bombing is Padawan Ahsoka Tano?"

"Ha ha ha." That wasn't even very funny; "You are _so_ funny, Fox. Is Ahsoka around?"

"…Ambassador, if you want to see Padawan Tano, you'll have to do so in person in the prison." Fox said. Kasumi paled at the realization that Fox wasn't making a bad joke.

"Wa…wait, what?" She stammered; "Why the hell would you suspect _her_ of bombing her own home?"

"Ambassador, she was caught strangling the woman who carried out the bombing." Fox pressed with a firm voice; "Padawan Tano killed the sole witness in her cell, on camera."

"But… Listen, I'm coming down there. Up there. Where _is_ the prison?" Because damn if she was going to allow this to pass without figuring out what the hell was going on. Had Ahsoka really killed someone in their cell, and had she… No. Ahsoka wouldn't have bombed the temple. It was her _home_, for Pete's sake!

Now she just had to find a cab.

Which turned out to be damned easy. Apparently, senators and ambassadors had the benefit of being constantly chaperoned by some sort of secret service that supplied them with cars an cakes and what-not. The harder part was convincing the stiff-lipped driver, who was a clone, surprise, to take her to the prison. Still, he seemed to realize that she was asking nice, which was still a sadly rare occurrence.

She'd have to take care of that issue _later_. Right now, she was looking at the quite massive building that made up the _surface_ of the prison. In hindsight, it was not all that surprising that a city spanning the entire planet would have some big-butt prisons.

Still, it was a bit extreme.

The entrance was more heavily guarded than some billionaire-mansions she had broken into. Minded, those mansions belonged to drug-lords and the like, hence the heavy guard. This place though, it dwarfed them all.

Exactly who needed Siege Walkers to guard a prison?

"Hi, I'm here to bail out my friend, Ahsoka Tano." She smiled brightly at the guards. With her hood up, they didn't seem to recognize her. Figures.

"Padawan Tano is under arrest for the Temple-bombing." The Maori soldier said with a firm, angry voice. Yep, he didn't recognize her, so she took the hood down, causing the man's brows to shoot up. At least, she bet they did. He wore a helmet. And all that.

"Yeah well, I don't buy that." She said, stepping up to the man; "And Commander Fox said I should come here to meet her myself. So can I come in? or do I have to wear girl-scout and sell cookies?"

"Girl..sc-Ambassador Goto!" he exclaimed, his voice betraying his surprise as his body remained steady; "I had no idea- Ma'am, go right in."

"Thanks." She nodded and pulled the hood back up. There was a small hint of a smirk on her lips as she saw the cameras above and around her. She'd seen the software in use by the Republic, hopelessly outdated, and the cameras would later show as her a blur, at the very least pixelating her face.

Inside the prison, beyond the heavy doors, she was met with a security-escort, led by the red-armored clone himself, Fox. It really was strange with two men sharing face, genes, voice and name, yet being different.

"Ambassador." Fox said as he stopped at the lead of ten similarly colored guards; "Remove the hood, please."

"Hello to you too." She said, smirk more or less gone from the commander's dry tone. Seemed like her charm hadn't reached him yet. Well, she knew some would prefer their familiar cages over the dangerous unknown of free rights. Sighing, she pulled the hood down, revealing the once-pristine black hair. Now, due to the explosion, patches of it were gone, forcing her to walk around with a makeshift hairnet. Really, it was good she wasn't superficial.

"If you would please turn in what equipment, electronics and eventual weapons you are carrying, ma'am, we can proceed." Fox nodded towards the checkpoint where an armed guard was waiting by a slide-box, behind obviously bullet-proof glass.

"Weapons, me?" she gave the man her best cute smile. There was no visible reaction;

"Ma'am. Please comply with the rules." Fox said; "the Chancellor himself would be subjugated to a search if he refused."

"Tsk, fine." She drew the word out as she retrieved first her short katana from her thigh, then the compacted, folded-up predator from places unmentionable. She suspected the poor boys arced a few brows at this, derived of women in the army as they were. Placing both on the desk, she turned to regard Fox again. He nodded at her Omnitool.

"Your wrist-comm too, ma'am."

"…No."

"Ambassador, with all due respect…"

"Not happening. Keep me at gunpoint if you want, I'm not handing over my Omnitool."

"Ambassador, please. Everything _will_ be returned upon your leave." Fox pressed, taking a step forward towards her. Kasumi's lips became a thin, pursed line; "You have my word as a soldier of the Republic."

"That really meant so much more before you locked up Ahsoka…" she muttered, locking the Omnitool. Nothing short of ripping out her greybox would open it now. She handed the tool over; "I expect it back, you know."

"And you _will_ get it back, ma'am." Fox assured her. Tried to, anyway; "If you would follow me."

"Sure." She really didn't have any other way of seeing Ahsoka. Also, why the hell wasn't Scarface here? He was Ahsoka's mentor or something, shouldn't he be raising the Jedi equivalent of Hell to get her out? "Lead the way, Foxy."

If the man was annoyed by her name for him (because she needed a way to differentiate between the two 'Fox's) he didn't let it show as they walked down the corridors. It was strange, seeing the exotic technology blend in with an interior design that belonged in Earth's late twentieth century.

"Here it is, ma'am." Fox said as they stopped by one of the doors, a red-hazed shield of energy; "the guards will remain outside, should you want to go inside."

"Thanks, Commander." She nodded and waited for him to leave.

"It was a relief for many of us that you survived the attack, ma'am." Fox said, then turned and left before Kasumi could reply. So, not so satisfied with his familiar cage after all, huh? Kasumi merely nodded at the man's back as he walked away, leaving her, and two silent guards, in front of the red shield.

"Ambassador." The guard to her left said. It was more of a question, really.

"Can you let me in?" she asked, looking ahead. On the other side of the shield, a metallic barrier started sliding aside as the guard nodded.

The shield dissipated before her, allowing entrance to a small, dimly lit cell without much else than a cot and a privy. Oh, and a completely miserable Togruta too at that. Kasumi's face settled into a concerned frown at seeing the state Ahsoka was in. Usually, the girl would be all fire and enthusiasm and even being hit in the face with flashbangs and electrocution (which was Kasumi's introduction, awkward to remember as it was), she wouldn't have looked like… this.

"Can we have some privacy?" she asked the guards, who nodded silently. Ahsoka's head snapped up at that as the doors slid closed, like she hadn't noticed Kasumi before now. Damn. Despite the look of defeat on Ahsoka's face, her eyes at least held that familiar spark of defiance. This was not a person who could have bombed her own home.

"…Kasumi?" there was a hint of fright in her voice, something that sounded completely out of place. She was dressed still in her field-outfit, (which still looked like something a broad would wear, but hey) and had her legs tugged up to her chest on the cot, hugging her knees.

"Hey girl." Kasumi gave a small wave as she walked over to the cot. She slumped down with a soft bump; "So… mind telling me what's going on?"

Ahsoka looked bewildered for a moment, then seemed like thoughts were going through her mind, thoughts she didn't really seem to like.

"Please, tell me you don't believe I did it…" the plead was so low and meek that at first Kasumi wasn't sure what to say. What kind of a question was that even? There was no way in Hell Kasumi thought Ahsoka had done it.

"Not in a million years, Peach." She replied softly, placing a hand on Ahsoka's shoulder before giving her a gentle squeeze. The orange skin was silky-smooth beneath her hand, contradicting the life she led. Ahsoka's weary eyes found hers; "But… why do _they_ think you did…?"

"We investigated the site after the bombing." Ahsoka started once more looking at the floor over the caps of her bare knees; "the bomb was… one of the workers."

"Suicide-west?" Kasumi muttered, thinking back to a time when human radicals had blown themselves up in the service of their insane causes. That it happened across the span of different galaxies, was worrying.

"No, he… _was_ the bomb." The memory of whatever had happened upon discovery was obviously unpleasant for her; "His wife had fed him explosive nanobots with his food."

"Oh…God." Kasumi's hand started for her mouth before she stopped it. Emotional reactions were probably _not_ what Ahsoka needed right now; "But, if you caught her, why…"

"They held her here for some time." Ahsoka then stopped, fingers clenched into tight fists. Whatever she was thinking, maybe connecting to the bomber, it troubled her greatly for all to see; "I went to question her and…"

As Ahsoka trailed off again, Kasumi connected the dots. Fox had said Ahsoka killed the sole witness, aka the plotting wife who had fed her hubby bombs, in her cell. Oh damn.

"Fox said the cameras showed you killing her." She said as gently as possible. The last she wanted was for Ahsoka to think she suspected her too. The alien girl snapped around to face her, hands still hugging her knees.

"I _didn't!_ She was strangled and- I couldn't stop it, I tried I really tried but-" she gasped for air; "…Fox thinks I'm guilty too?"

"Don't know the man, so I couldn't tell ya." Kasumi leaned back, resting her head against the wall; "But _why'd_ he think you did it?"

"I was trying to bring her back down. The- she was being pinned in the air and I just tried…it must have looked like I was…_killing_ her." The last words came out with a tone that Kasumi winced from. It was the voice of a person wronged by injustice, driven by a desire to bring said injustice to an end. Ahsoka could be hot-headed, she knew, but… at least she wasn't foolish.

"Okay." Kasumi breathed out, eyes looking at the ceiling before they went to the montreals of her friend; "Has Sca- Anakin been here yet?"

Ahsoka nodded; "…Yes."

"And…?" Kasumi urged her; "He'd damn well better be raising Hell on Coruscant to get you out, or I'm going to jam a flashbang up his rear."

Ahsoka's lips cracked in a small, unwilling smile at that one.

"He wants me to remain calm and leave it to him and the Council to solve this quickly."

"Did he give any indications as to how soon this 'quickly' might be?" Kasumi asked, tapping a finger on her left, gloved hand; "Because if Window is the one in charge, that could be a while."

The deliberate mispronunciation of Windu's name seemed to grant Ahsoka another, if small, amusing distraction. Warm green eyes found Kasumi's, steady despite the obvious turmoil within.

"I was so scared when I found out you… that you'd been in the hangar." The Togruta muttered after a short pause when Kasumi hadn't said more. Kasumi just patted her waist where the barrier-generator, small as it was, was secured against her skin.

"Asari-made barrier-generator." She explained as she poked the thin, almost invincible outline of the gadget; "Never leave home without it."

If Ahsoka wanted to know more about the generator, she didn't let it show. Kasumi decided to proceed;

"Look." She said, and her tone made Ahsoka lock eyes with her again; "I'm going to do everything I can to get you out of here, hopefully legally. I never for a moment believed Fox or anyone else when they said you did it, and frankly I'd love to show them where to get off with that stuff. I'll talk to whomever I have to talk to, yell at whomever I have to and even whack whomever I need to over the fingers to get you out…But…"

The startled look in Ahsoka's eyes at the 'but' almost made her hug the poor girl;

"But… I need you to be the best little 'Miss Prisoner' until either me and Scarface walk in here all 'you're free', or until I have to break down the door and get you out myself. Can you do that for me?" not to mention that it felt _so_ weird being the grown-up girl all of a sudden. But with Ahsoka being (wrongfully!) in jail, she had to.

Ahsoka nodded slowly, as if processing the words. It was likely the last part with Kasumi promising to break down the door that had her mildly befuddled. That, or it was the part with finger-whacking.

"Okay. Has Padme been here?" at the shake of the alien head, Kasumi nodded to herself; "Okay. I'll see if I can't get her friendly enough to help me out here."

"Is something wrong between you?" Ahsoka asked with equal concern and curiosity. Kasumi sighed and let her head bump right back onto the wall. Right, Ahsoka likely didn't even know about her 'Save the Clones' project.

"Don't worry. Just a bit disagreeing on a few things in the Senate." Kasumi gave her a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes; "Nothing to worry about."

"…Right." Ahsoka muttered.

"Hey, thou of little faith," Kasumi gave the girl a light jab on the shoulder before she stood; "I'll get this done, just be a peach and sit tight."

She was a little unprepared for the hug Ahsoka pulled her into, but responded nonetheless. It felt nice being able to give comfort to people, even more so when it was her friend in trouble.

"Kasumi…Thanks…" Ahsoka breathed before she let go. Kasumi nodded wordlessly, smiling reassuringly at her friend as she herself started towards the door.

"Hey, it's what I'm here for." She said; "I'll bring some better covers and snacks next time, 'kay?"

When she left the cell, Kasumi didn't need to look behind her to know that Ahsoka's smile faltered and returned to the furrows of worry. She herself bore the same expression.


	20. Flight of the Corax

**Being with little internet does actually have one advantage. With so little other stuff to do, all my free-time is dedicated to writing. As a result, I bring you this little reunion with a concept I very much enjoyed in the first book: Space Battles. (Any of you guys ever played EVE Online? Kick-ass game if you have the patience for it.) And, we will also be seeing some more of Magnus (first place in chapter is Omega, duh) who seems to be going from one mental disorder to the next. **

**Because, hearing voices never meant anything, right? **

* * *

**Flight of the Corax**

* * *

March 1st

Omega, Sahrabarik-system

Blue Suns compound, Bar

19:28

Beer was… not really doing it for him tonight.

Magnus didn't feel like joining in on the hearty chatter between the rest of the crew. They were more or less all gathered in the same bar he'd found Sidonis in earlier, drinking their asses off with the benefit of a heavy discount on the booze.

His mind went to the dreams he'd been having regularly ever since that evening where that _voice_ had spoken to him. It had just started out with a single word: 'mortal', and he had initially shrugged it off as it being a product of his tired brain.

Aesir, he was _so_ tired…

_Empty space. _

_He was, for lack of better words, nowhere in particular, because there was nothing around him at all. He was standing in an empty, colorless space. It wasn't white, it wasn't black. It was like the lack of color you'd see in dreams. _

_Then, it was probably a dream. Still, he'd been here before. It was strange, recognizing a dream. It was supposed to be impossible, wasn't it?_

"_**Mortal**__."_

_The presence would always appear the place he wasn't looking. It was like it just… popped into place. Whenever he then turned to look, the nothingness around him would become a massive lake, spanning infinitely far, yet with the lakesides being clearly visible. He wouldn't as much _fall_ into the water as he'd simply be lowered into the liquid._

"_Yes." It wasn't what he wanted to say, but it was his voice and mouth and words. _

_Jane would then appear, standing on the water like Jesus himself. There would be no expression on her face, not even any features. Yet, he knew it was her. _

_Tara would appear next to her, stripped of her suit. She neither had any features, only the glowing orbs that were her eyes._

_He screamed as they both became forms of water, then simply washed down into the lake. _

"_**Flow**__." _

_His scream became soundless gurgles as he too became water, merging with the lake. He then felt as if he was being lifted, or sucked into the air above the lake._

"_**Freeze**_**.**"

_His form, now a human-shape of water, froze into ice. _

"Magnus?" a voice tore him from his sleep, blinding darkness overwhelming him. Magnus yanked himself from the counter of the bar with such speed that he ripped the glass of beer through the air as well.

As the laughs over him falling asleep ensued, no one seemed to notice the solid chunk of snap-frozen beer now lying shattered on the

* * *

March 2nd

Quana, Theseus system

Spacelane Patrol, Police group 'Phoenix'

Corax-class Destroyer 'SSV Cold Storm' – CIC

05:29

Captain Louis McCann sipped his coffee, scalding as always, while he surveyed the bridge of the Cold Storm. His destroyer was at the lead of the patrolling force of destroyers and frigates. Currently consisting of five Corax-class and two Cormorant-class destroyers as well as wolf packs of Merlin-class frigates zooming in-between the ships, the group was patrolling high above the blue, crystal-like surface of Quana.

Quana was a mars-sized ball of ice and rock, with a colony holding some ten-thousand workers and a massive foundry as its primary industry. Really, it was a bit like how things had been in the first industrial revolution back on Earth, where working-towns sprung up around mines and factories. With Quana being the main rare-earths supplier, lithium especially, of the Attican Beta, Spacelane Patrol had been tasked to increase patrols in the system.

"Pack-leader Marus Korinthos reports all systems green and nothing out of the ordinary." One of the technicians reported from the two long rows of positions on each side of the walkway between the galaxy-map and the pilots' compartment. The Corax was a merge of human and Turian design, hence the extended walkway. McCann didn't see the advantage of the longer CIC. It made it more easily targeted by enemy ships.

Then again, who the hell would attack a policing taskforce?

"Good." He nodded, placing the cup in the hole in his chair. He remained standing, pulling up a series of files on the latest development on Alliance-Turian relations. He had to know in advance if either made a move to end their partition in the joint taskforce. With the tensions caused by Admiral Fisher's reaction to the Council's neglect, that there was a very real risk.

"Captain. The colony's CO reports some issues with extra-system comms. They want us to send a team to check up on the buoys." Comms reported. McCann sighed, putting away the reports. At least there seemed to be an agreement so far that as long as outright _war_ didn't erupt between the two factions, neither Hierarchy nor the Alliance would hold out on the efforts.

"Alright. Have wolf-pack Yellow and the Amsterdam head for the Relay. If there's any damage to the buoys, the colony _should_ have a Bataam-frigate on hand." He tapped his chin; "Tell Hohenheim to take it steady out there, we're gonna be in the system for another three weeks. No reason to get too excited."

"Orders relayed."

"Alright." He sighed contently, sinking into his chair. His fingers gripped the top of his coffee and hoisted it from the cup-holder; "…keep me updated."

McCann watched his displays as six vessels parted from his task-group before activating their FTL-drives. The display just stopped showing them instead of showing a zipping bolt. A shame really, as the sight of a ship going into FTL was quite something to see. He rubbed his eyelids as sleep was starting to creep up on him. God, but there was something extraordinary about late-night patrols.

Mainly that the cantina distributed free coffee.

His ship, the SSV Cold Storm, was a chip off the old block. Being of the Corax-class, the vessel was stocked to the brim with ship-to-ship missiles, logistical drones for exterior repairs and a modern propulsion-drive capable of going from sub-to-faster than light in just ten seconds. Ten launch-ports distributed across the upper and lower hull of the submarine-like ship would allow the light vessel to tear into the typically lightly armored ships of Traverse pirates. Kinetic barriers were not a problem for missiles, and the speed of the Corax's engines allowed it to potentially circle bigger vessels outside the range of their GARDIAN-systems and deliver punishing blows from safety.

As opposed to the Corax-class ships, the slower Cormorants were meant for getting closer to enemy ships. It could take more of a beating than the Corax-class due to its more extensive shielding, while retaining a low mass thanks to a minimal plating. They were outfitted with eight pairs of 425mm auto-cannons instead of a spinal mass accelerator cannon. The reasons for this was quite simple:

Non-military vessels were prohibited from mounting weapons capable of megaton-scale damage, something which excluded practically every ship-class railgun in use. While the first thought would then have been to fit smaller mass accelerators in turrets, the manufacturers had instead followed the lessons learned from the encounters between human and Turian ships in the First Contact War, where several vessels had still used gunpowder-propelled superheated shells. Lesson learned was that kinetic barriers had issues detecting shells travelling at a lower velocity than traditional mass effect aided slugs.

Sadly, the use of nuclear-tipped shells had been restricted after the Turian defeated over Shanxi became Primarch and complained to the Council.

Fedorian was a sore loser.

Lastly, the Merlin-class frigates were just narrowly passing the line between small frigate and heavy fighter. The Merlin was a response to the fact that the Mantis-gunships lacked an FTL-drive and thus had a major disadvantage in space-based combat. The Merlin, spanning just fifty meters across the axis, possessed a FTL-drive capable of getting it through solar systems, though they were unable to get to places the Relays didn't extend to. For that, they needed to dock with the Hyperion-class Carriers, the Spacelane Patrol's answer to the dreadnought. Vessels intended for direct warfare, like frigates, were restricted above the size of the five-hundred meter cruisers. The Hyperion was a weaponless platform for fighters and small frigates, and was just short of nine-hundred meters in length.

"Captain, the Amsterdam is on comms." Comms reported. McCann looked up from his files, realizing it had already been some fifteen minutes since the small group departed; "It's urgent"

"Bring them on screen." He replied, getting up from the chair. A large holographic screen appeared above the CIC from the projectors, revealing Hohenheim's gold-bearded face, with the room in full alert behind him. Whatever weariness McCann had felt, it left him that instance;

"Captain." And yet the man seemed calm; "a small flotilla of suspected Hegemony ships just exited the Relay. They aren't responding to our hails."

"Batarians?" McCann hissed; "Shit…how many?"

Hohenheim's golden eyes briefly scanned something before him before looking back up; "Five cruisers and some twenty frigates. The cruisers look new, but the frigates could be pirates. I don't know. A few of them seem to have sustained severe damage."

Feros being abandoned due to issues with colonization, Quana was the only real target of interest for attackers of any type.

"Okay." McCann growled, scratching his chin; "Return… to here. We'll form up between the colony and them."

"Yes sir." Van saluted, then ended the transmission. McCann turned to comms;

"Contact colony-headquarters." He said with a calm tone; "Tell them to prepare for a rapid evacuation to underground bunkers. Yellow alert, possible pirates in the system."

"Aye aye, sir."

"Also, get a call out to the nearest Relay fleet. Don't care if it's Turian or Alliance."

"Yes sir."

"Damn…" he slumped back in the chair. The coffee had gone cold when he tried taking a sip for the nerves. For now, he watched the displays. Dots showing the five other destroyers in his group starting to turn to face the Relay. The Cold Storm took point, while new displays showed ammunition-stores as Hellfire, Archer, Inferno and Mjolnir-missiles were loaded into the launchers.

Starting from a V-formation, the two Cormorants of his group moved forward in a Y-pattern from the center. McCann pulled up fresh displays showing their ammunition being loaded up. Titanium-sabot rounds were being prepared in sixty-round cartridges, while both vessels kept their engines at a ready. Things went wrong, and the Cormorants would angle up towards the incoming ships while frigates and Corax's kited above and below for minimal risks of being hit when targeted.

"Call the commander up. I want an update."

"Yes sir" comms replied, and moments later, Hohenheim's face appeared on the screen. He looked no worse than before, though slightly worried;

"Captain." He started, then glanced at displays unseen to the Cold Storm; "unaffiliated vessels have started towards Quana. We're not going to have time to link up as planned if they keep this up."

"Dammit." He ran a hand down over his chin; "Okay. Just make sure to be in a potentially optimal firing-range in case we need it. Someone force a link with those ships, I want to know what they're doing in my system!"

"We're trying." Came the response. Currently, McCann didn't have a whole lot of patience for 'trying'.

"Try harder." He ordered; "_No one_ starts shooting. We're not the navy, we don't _look_ for fights."

He didn't get a reply aside from the mandatory 'aye, aye', and returned to gripping the rails before him.

The Patrol was a _policing force_, NOT a regular military navy. He had no intention of seeking fights or firing the first shot. While he would _not_ roll over from threats, McCann would prefer dialogue over fighting. His men were cops, not soldiers (he didn't bother with the fact that basically every Turian out there had been a soldier at some point) and he wasn't going to risk their lives.

"Bypassing ECM." Comms reported.

McCann didn't react visibly.

"Link forced. Stand by."

McCann breathed as he leaned back and stood straight, eyes focused on the screen over his galaxy-map. The hologram flickered for a moment before coming to life. The visage of an upset Batarian in Hegemony-uniform came to.

"Batarian vessels, you are approaching Systems-"

"Shoot it! _Shoot_ it!" the Batarian screamed in panic before cutting off the link.

McCann stared at the empty screen for a moment, trying to figure out if he was under attack or not. The alien had yelled for someone to shoot something, but hadn't opened fire yet. Strange, and they hadn't stopped their approach yet.

That what when scans revealed more contacts coming from the Relay. Wait. No that was wrong. There was just _one_ contact.

"All vessels stand by. Additional unknown contact just emerged from the Relay." He muttered into the comms; "Get me the Amsterdam."

"Establishing contact. Stand by."

Moments later, Hohenheim's wary face came up on screen. Seeing the Dutch worried as well wasn't doing much for McCann's sunny disposition. He wordlessly demanded a report.

"Captain, something just came out from the Relay." The man was still closer to the Relay than them, he might be able to supply a better picture.

"We see it on scans, Van." McCann replied; "What is it?"

"Unsure." Hohenheim muttered with a finger to his chin; "I have never seen the design before… bringing it up on screen."

A moment later, what looked like a roman column with contracted cancer appeared next to Hohenheim's face. McCann blinked, silently examining the image.

"Size?" he then asked.

"About seven hundred meters." Hohenheim reported. Almost Dreadnought-size. Shit; "It looks like the vessel lacks point-defense hardpoints, but the main weapon seems to fill most of the vessel… Orders?"

"The Batarians are obviously fleeing from it." McCann muttered to himself. The Dutch commander nonetheless picked up on it;

"Should we ask them why?"

"Already tried." McCann sighed; "All I got was screaming and 'shoot it' over and over. It's either hostile to the Batarians over a failed raid, like what the pirate-vessels indicate, or it's hostile to us as well and the four-eyes just happened upon it."

"Sir?"

"Alright, let the Batarians run for now." He ordered, then switched fleet-wide on again; "All ships, new target: an incoming seven-hundred meter unknown was chasing them here. All weapons towards the newcomer, load up for potential hostile. Hold fire until my word."

From the exterior displays, McCann could see the Arbalest-launchers swirl around for the new target, readied warheads in each. God, but this was going sour _fast_.

"Contact the unknown vessel." He ordered; "I wanna know _who_ we're dealing with this time."

"Vessel not responding."

"Force an uplink then!" McCann ordered. Comms set to, leaving him to watch as the displays showed Hohenheim's group just light-seconds ahead of whatever the new vessel was.

"Uplink failed. We're not getting through."

Well. Shit.

"Power up weapons. Raise shields." McCann was starting to suspect that he would end up in a fight regardless of what he did. And he _hated_ it.

"This is Hohenheim!" suddenly, the commander's voice was much more upset; "Unknown vessel just opened fire on the wolf-pack."

"Dammit…" McCann hissed through his teeth. He watched the displays, and quite right, two of Wolf-pack Yellow's frigates were now gone; "What the hell happened?"

"-vessel just fired- Sir! The vessel's main weapon is a particle-weapon!"

"_What_!" McCann nearly yelled, watching as another frigate went dark; "All ships prepare to fire!"

"We're coming in eta: ten seconds." Hohenheim urged, like he believed his ship would go faster if he prodded it.

"All vessels this is your Captain speaking. Prepare to fire all munitions at unknown enemy coming out of sub-FTL in t-plus-ten seconds. Provide cover for the Amsterdam and Yellow." He breathed, speaking again; "All ships stay mobile. Weapons free."

With a snap of light, the remaining five ships from the Amsterdam's group appeared, speeding towards the formation of arrayed warships. McCann looked at the displays and scans running in, dismayed at seeing the shields being more or less depleted on the Amsterdam, and several of the frigates suffering severe hull-damage.

"Stand ready to fire!"

The fleeing formation started slowing down as they got past the rest of taskforce 'Phoenix', and the Amsterdam started turning around to join the formation. As Hohenheim's ship, a Corax-class destroyer was halfway through the turn, a sickly yellow lance of light burned through the empty space even before scans picked up the arrival of the new ship. McCann blinked in surprise at seeing the attack for himself, as the beam seared off the lower starboard of the destroyer. The beam simply sliced clean through the armor, rupturing half of the lower decks with explosions.

"Jesus _Fuck-_ Open fire! Fire! Fire, Fire!" McCann yelled, paling as he watched more explosions rip through the Amsterdam. He hoped the crew escaped but had to turn his attention back to the actually happening _battle_ at hand.

Missiles flew in swarms from the remaining four Corax-destroyers in the group, joining the superheated shells fired by the autocannons of the Cormorants. Even before half the projectiles reached the incoming ship, and _God it was hideous,_ a fresh beam of energy lanced forth from its middle, and finished the job on the Amsterdam. It neatly sliced the ship in half from upper to lower deck, and what remained intact blew apart in the following explosions.

The Amsterdam vanished from the displays.

The missiles hit the enemy ship hard. But they didn't _hit_ it. Much to both surprise and horror of the Spacelane vessels, golden barriers sprung to life, swatting aside the missiles supposed to rip clean through. McCann didn't have the time to contemplate what kind of barriers these were, as the barriers he knew of would glow purple, when the enemy ship angled itself slightly and fired anew.

At him.

"Incoming!"

"Activate boosters!"

The impact shook his ship as it washed over them. Despite shields still being active, if depleting rapidly, he could feel the room starting to heat up and felt the dampeners fail to sustain a stable ship.

"Shields depleting!"

"UP! Vertical climb!" McCann yelled, gripping the rails before him. Where the hell were the _real_ warships of the Alliance when you needed them? "Keep firing!"

The Cold Storm roared upwards, engines propelling her as fast as mechanically possible. The maneuver spared the ship a new cut as a lance of energy ignited the void few hundred meters behind it only seconds later.

The two Cormorants soared towards the enemy ship, autocannons pounding its barriers with heavy shells. Both were some of the heaviest guns the Spacelane Patrol could deploy, and their ammunition was supposed to be able to tear apart enemy light cruisers and even make a regular Genève-class cruiser make an effort to stay in the fight. Zipping past them, the remaining three wolfpacks opened fire the moment they were in range, intent on at least weakening the shields of the massive ship with their comparatively insignificant armaments.

"Captain! Additional contacts!"

"The Alliance?" he snapped before realizing how dumb the question was. They'd sent the request for help only half an hour ago, there was no way-

"No, from the enemy ship!" Tech called with slight panic; "It's deploying drones!"

McCann gaped for a moment, eyes locked on the displays as dozens of small dots appeared around the hulking abomination of a ship. Shit, as if _one_ mysterious enemy wasn't enough, now there were swarms of drones heading for the engaging wolfpacks. He gripped the speaker on his chin;

"Wolfpacks shift fire to enemy drone fighter-crafts. Destroyers remain on enemy main-" the ship rocked as a new lance of energy grazed its shields, causing the barriers to deplete completely in one go.

"Narrow overshot!" techs called; "shields are down!"

"Take us on a forty-five degree angle towards the enemy." McCann ordered. Sweat was rolling down his face, getting into eyes and mouth; "Load up Disrupter-warheads on all missiles!"

"Captain, that'll leave us weaponless for over ten seconds!" one of the stations called. He didn't look to see who it was. Every second counted, and even with auto-loaders taking care of things, ten seconds was still a lot.

"Just do it!" he barked. A few faces in the CIC paled, but the order was nonetheless carried out. Allthewhile McCann watched on his displays as the Cormorants hammered shell after shell into the enemy ship, and the frigates engage the enemy drones. Hell, for all he knew the drones were manned fighters, them being drones was just a hope as drones were easier to shoot down.

"Captain, pack leader Korinthos on the link."

"McCann!" the Turian yelled into the comms before he even had a chance to see the link opened; "We're getting murd-"

The link terminated. McCann blinked in shock as he watched more and more frigates drop off the displays.

"Korinthos? Marus dammit! Answer me!" McCann shouted, squeezing his ear-piece with a vengeance. There was no reply; "SHIT!"

"Captain! Wolfpacks are getting torn apart!"

"Tell the Black Swan and Odysseus to change firing-targets to the drones!" God, but this was taking a gamble; "Rest of us will keep hitting the enemy ship. Status on the warheads?"

"Loaded and- firing." The displays showed a fresh cluster of dots leave the ships towards the enemy cruiser. McCann bit his knuckles.

The Cormorants changed their targets to the drones as the order came down. They swayed off their broad orbit of the enemy cruiser before taking a dive towards the ongoing dogfight. Autocannons reloaded on anti-fighter shells, muzzle tightening from the broader ammunition even as the first rounds started belching from them.

The Black Swan was at the lead, its systems targeting the circling drones instead of the main fight. It was met head-on with a cluster of spherical fighter-crafts, red centers glowing with malice. Each eye-like lens started crackling with red arcs of electricity, preparing yet another burst of the tearing red beams that had already taken out so many frigates.

A volley of heavy steel-tipped shells punched through the nimble fighter's shields, ripping through the metallic body with ease. The rest of the drones swayed off to the sides as more shells chased their tails.

The Odysseus started belching fire as well as it took the opposite side of the dogfight, turrets targeting the enemy wherever it could hit without risking friendly fire.

Its participation was cut short when the thick, yellow lance of energy speared its shields and went straight through the hull. Explosions ripped through the splitting hull, swallowing up the internal crewmembers as they fled the burning corridors. Screams were snuffed out as the air vented through multiple ruptures in the hull.

"Captain, the Odysseus-"

"I know!" McCann snapped, biting his knuckles to blood. His existence was cruel, watching as men and women he had served with since joining the Patrol were slaughtered. They had yet to be able to even make the shots go through the golden barrier; "GOD DAMMIT!"

"Capta-!"

"WHAT?!" he screamed, causing the woman to flinch.

"We have to retreat or we're _dead_!"

"We are _not_ retreating!" he yelled, ripping the displays for his remaining task-force up. He'd lost two of three wolfpacks, one Cormorant and one Corax-class destroyer. Effectively, his forces had been cut in half with nothing to show for it; "Keep shooting! The bastards can't be immortal!"

A shrill alarm went off, signaling the destruction of the Black Swan, as a lance of energy vaporized its shields and bridge. The destroyer went dark, with autocannons short-circuiting while belching out the rest of their ammunition. Most of it simply went into space as the cannons sprayed in all directions, while a few stray shots shattered against the hull of friendly vessels.

"Both Cormorants are-"

"I _SAW _it perfectly fine myself, thank you!" McCann snapped as he gripped the rails even harder with one hand, wiping cold-sweat from his eyes with the other.

"…Yes sir."

The enemy ship was relentless, even as missiles kept slamming into its barriers. Each time a swarm slammed into its golden shield, a lance of energy went out for blood. Often it found what it sought, as the lance washed over the shields of the Day of the Black Sun. The destroyer roared forward on an angle similar to the Cold Storm's.

A fresh lance surged outwards, clipping the fins of the ship as it grazed it sides. The ship veered off course, desperate to evade another hit. The change in direction just took off too much speed, and the next lance speared the engines. Radiant explosions ripped the back of the ship apart, sending it tumbling around without control.

The next lance sliced through the ship, splitting it apart from one end to the other. Oxygen-devouring explosions sent the parts in both directions, leaving little hope for survivors.

What was that, two-hundred crewmen?

Two-hundred lives. Pow, gone like that.

McCann gave a dry chuckle at the insanity of ever thinking they'd had a chance.

"Captain?" the same tech as before asked meekly; "_Please, _we have to-"

"I know." He muttered in resignation; "Dammit all. DAMMIT!" he slammed a fist into the haptic displays on his command-chair.

"_Orders_?" McCann winced as another destroyer, the Vindicator, was sliced through. It was almost artistic, how the upper hull was carved out as if with a spoon.

They were down to two ships now. Not just two destroyers, but two _ships_. Every single frigate had been blasted to debris, the other destroyers had been gutted and blown apart. Only the Glory of Manae and the Cold Storm remained, and he didn't have any shields left.

"…Pull out. We can't wi-" McCann's words were deafened when the lance of energy speared his ship, vaporizing the bridge.

The Glory of Manae followed only moments later when the enemy drones swarmed it, slicing it open. The massive vessel didn't even bother wasting another shot, instead just allowing the crew of the last destroyer to be sucked out into the void.

Then, it set a course for Quana.

* * *

Codex Entry: Caldari Corporations

Brainchild of United Nations president Holier François, the Caldari Corporations is the Umbrella Corporation managing major firms such as Elkoss Kombine, the Sirta foundation and Lockheed Martin.

Consisting of hundreds of corporations, firms and contractors, the Caldari Corporations boasts millions of workers on Earth alone. While they speculate in weapons research, the main source of income for the corporation lies with intergalactic trade and the superiority of human-made medicinal equipment, as well as superconductors and agricultural industry.

Together with the Turian 'Hierarchy Trading Association', the Caldari Corporations sponsor a joint paramilitary effort on the fringes of Alliance and Hierarchy Space. The Spacelane Patrol.

Recent unexplainable devastations of Spacelane Patrol vessels have made the Corporations put in requests for regular military vessels to join their patrols.


	21. It's the FNG, Sir

**Time for the Chief to meet his match: An old lady.**

* * *

**"It's the FNG, Sir"**

* * *

March 4th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Medical facility, Governmental Section

Solitary confinement cell.

12:00

"Open the doors." Anna said. She looked to her left, watching as the nurse scurried to obey her command.

Anna herself couldn't very well open the doors, seeing as she was carrying a pair of plastic-chairs in one arm, while the other was trying not to touch anything. The wrist was still broken and wrapped with a splint, and a layer of Omnigel coated the whole thing. The moment the doors opened fully, she strode in, huffing while keeping the chairs raised.

John-117 was still on the floor, naturally, and was looking like he had nothing better to do than to stare at her. It had been some four days since he'd been shoved through the portal, and Anna hadn't wanted to meet with him before having something to barter with.

"Unlock his restraints." She said as the doors hissed shut.

The technicians and guards on the other side of the thick glass nodded with a little hesitation, then pressed the button. John's restraints unlocked with four identical hisses, allowing the bulky soldier to stand. When he did, he towered over Anna with at least half a meter. Damn.

"Sit." She said, brokering no argument as she pointed at the chair. In hindsight it probably wouldn't be able to support him. Shit, she should have thought that one through; "or, just sit on the floor or stand. I'm sitting."

"I'd rather stand." His dark eyes seemed to try drilling into her soul. Well, sucked for him if he succeeded. Might get some nightmares.

"Sure, whatever." She waved him off before pulling a small disk from her uniform's chest-pocket; "Figured you might want this back."

John's eyes froze at the sight. It was like he'd become another person altogether at the sight of the small AI-bluebox. Hands shaking, he gently took the disk from Anna's hands, gingerly holding it before looking around in mild confusion. Anna guessed what it was, and gestured to the doors.

A small hatch slid open, allowing a small drone to hover into the room. It stopped in front of the huge soldier, hovering expectantly before him.

"Go on, plug her in." Anna smiled while watching the man insert the disk into the drone. Faster than the eye could blink, the blue visage of the AI's avatar appeared. Anna herself had only briefly conversed with 'Cortana' via a small screen on an isolated laptop, and that had only showed her Cortana's face.

Funny enough, Cortana looked a lot like a twenty-ish year old version of herself.

Cortana in her whole was… different, than Price. In a few ways too at that. First of all, she didn't appear to be neither clothed nor naked. She simply had… a surface, like the body of a gorgeous woman. Her face was completely human though, complete with the overwhelming expression of joy Anna was seeing on it right now.

It was damn sweet, actually.

"…John?" It was like she was afraid of believing it.

"Cortana." The relief was hard to see on his face, but his voice gave it away. He then, with visible effort, turned his eyes from the AI's avatar to Anna; "Is the Rampancy…"

"Fixed." Anna said, giving a wry smile at the human-sized avatar; "We've had Price and Eliza working on it for days. Honestly, I was starting to get nervous when she fried the station's shields, but yeah."

"I thought only Doctor Halsey could have helped me." Cortana said, smiling warmly at the both of them; "You saved my life, Admiral."

"Oh please…" Anna huffed; "that's like, what I do every day."

"I… Thank you, ma'am." John had his hands behind his back, standing at ease before her. Despite his imposing form, he looked like his eyes were close to welling over. If it wasn't for the broken bones in her wrist, Anna would have patted him on the shoulder.

"So, can I take it that this means you'll be willing to work for me? And, pointedly _not_ break any more of my bones." Anna gave Cortana a look to say that he really was forgiven, more or less. The AI knew what had transpired, and Price had been busy explaining the situation with a speed and depth only an AI would be capable of.

"Yes."

"Good." She straightened a bit in the chair; "Seeing how you can probably not be integrated with the regular Alliance military, I'm considering having you made part of a new taskforce I'm assembling."

"Part of project 'Relay', ma'am?" John asked. Anna smiled wryly, tapping a finger on her cheek.

"Kun told you about that, did he?" she said, looking between the two newcomers before she leaned back in the chair with a sigh; "But no, this is outside that. Listen, what I am about to tell you, and Lord knows I'm only telling you because there's no conceivable way you could be spies, is classified to the highest levels of them Alliance. Under no circumstances can you discuss it with anyone not initiated."

"Understood."

"Good." Anna said, getting to her feet. She pulled her Omnitool (on her right hand and God was that just awkward) up and remotely turned off the light in the room. The armored windows polarized and allowed for total darkness sans Cortana's glow and the light from the tool. Anna then projected the first image onto the wall;

"Let's start with the main threat here." She pointed at the first image, showing Saren Arterius. He was pre-indoctrinated, and then a slide with him as he was under the heavy influence of Sovereign; "This is Saren Arterius. Was. Anyway, the first slide was taken four years ago. Here, he's normal, uncompromised. The next one here, he's indoctrinated by… this ugly fuck." she changed the image to Sovereign.

"John." Cortana muttered.

"I know." He said slowly; "Looks like the wreck on the installation."

"Right." Anna sighed; "Somehow it wouldn't surprise me if the Reapers turned up on your doorsteps as well. This is Sovereign, officially, and Nazara unofficially."

"Why the two names?" Cortana mused, looking intently at the image of Sovereign carving up a Turian cruiser on its approach to the Citadel.

"Sovereign is the official name given to the Reaper Vanguard by the Alliance. Officially it was an AI controlling a four-kilometer doom-squid."

"…doom-squi…oh, I see it. Yeah." Cortana said, a small smile cracking her digital lips.

"Exactly. Regardless of what the Alliance officially says, the truth is that Sovereign's real name was Nazara, a dark god bent on exterminating all advanced life in the galaxy." Anna sad, allowing it to sink in before changing the image to one of the few surviving surveillance-recordings; "Watch."

The recording was not exactly the best quality. It lasted only ten seconds, but it showed clearly enough Thomas, blazing green while he was hurling Saren through a wall. Then they came back out, Thomas on the receiving end of the blows this time. The video stopped at Saren hurling Thomas into the air.

"The one on fire with purple and dark colors was Saren. The fire was apparently given to him by Nazara, by some sort of fucked up supernatural stuff-ish thing. Fuck if I know how the Devil works, I just makes sure he pays rent. _Boom_." She grinned and smacked her fist. When she saw John's confused expression, and Cortana fighting a grin, she straightened back up.

"And, the one with the green colors?" Cortana asked, pointing at Thomas. Poor guy, the video hadn't exactly stopped at a moment doing him much justice.

"Service Chief Thomas Fisher." She enlarged the image, then changed it to one of Thomas in profile, armored up bar a helmet. The scars over his eye hadn't healed all the way yet there, which made him look pretty badass.

Anna was a proud sister with that picture.

"Name's the same-" Cortana started.

"As mine, yes. Officially he's my nephew." Anna cut the AI off. She was kinda glad she'd engaged Price with fully devoting his attention to researching plasma-physics derived from the weapons from the Ishimura.

"And, unofficially?" Cortana really seemed to be the more talkative one of the pair. Anna crossed her arms, looking between them.

"He's my older brother who's forty years younger than me." The look of complete and utter surprise and confusion on the Master Chief's face was worth the slip of secrecy. God, he looked hilarious; "Let's just say I knew from experience I could haul something from that portal."

"Do I still have rampancy, of did she just say what I think she…" Cortana seemed to think she was whispering. Well, she wasn't.

"Just go with it, otherwise you'll get a migraine." Anna shrugged; "Anyway. Thomas is a first-generation Chi-soldier, meaning he's utilizing the dormant network of Chi-energy in the human body." The next video she showed them was Thomas and Roku training, trading blows and fireblasts; "We're still working out the kinks in it."

"That's not something you see every day." Cortana mused, hand to her lips.

"True words. Thomas is part of the taskforce I mentioned earlier, as are several other persons of interest. A few of them share your origins, though I'll allow them to be the ones to open up to the two of you. You'll of course be given a few days to acclimate and get familiar with your new surroundings, as well as be given a dossier of your to-be team. You'll also be equipped with modern equipment, communication-tools and a bank-account will be created in your name."

"Damn. Off the boat and already employed." Cortana couldn't hide the smirk on her lips. Being brought back from the brink seemed to have done a positive on her attitude.

"It sounds like this is not exactly a standard taskforce, even with your…brother's abilities." The Chief muttered, locking eyes with Anna; "Is there a hidden agenda behind this team?"

"Well…" Anna sighed; "Before this whole 'Reaper' shit-storm, I _was_ going to use the team as a spearhead in an eventual war against the Hegemony, but now? No, no ulterior motives. Oh, and you'll have to let our scientists take a look at your armor. Master Chief Petty Officer, you are now employed under the 'Aspect of Fire' directive. You _will_ comply with my orders. Understood?"

"…Yes, ma'am." The Chief sounded hesitant in his words. Still, if he complied, she didn't see a problem his attitude towards releasing what could be new technology, or just outdated tech. Either way, his size alone suggested heavy augmentations, and perhaps involvement in the Spartan-program Price had mentioned months ago. So he'd be an asset regardless.

Anna was fighting a grin at the possibilities.

Some days she hated her job.

And some days, she fucking loved it.

"Good." She smirked again before seriousness came back on her expression; "The rank of Master Chief will not be upheld though. I don't know what you can do, will do and have done, and I don't want an unknown commanding as much as a cornflake." She paused, seeing if the soldier would react. He just looked at her, listening. Huh; "You'll be granted the rank of Private First Class, and be under the command of Captain Jane Shepard. Hopefully, you'll live up to the praise Price had about you, and you'll rise in the ranks again. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Hey, why's that necessary? You could review his entire service-history from the files in-"

"In his helmet, yes. Already have been looking through the early Human/Covenant war." Anna cut Cortana off; "Doesn't matter. I make my own judgment of you. Works better that way."

"Understood." Now-Private First Class John-117 nodded in agreement; "Will I be meeting the rest of the team soon?"

"Soon enough, yes." Anna nodded. Damn, she still needed to see how Thomas handled the new arm. Her brother had come out of the Bacta-tank earlier that day, and Emhart was already busy going through a wide selection of bionic limbs last Anna knew. Huh. Maybe she could introduce the newcomer to one of his immediate superiors right now?

Sure, why the hell not?

"If you feel ready for it, you can bypass the dossier on Service Chief Thomas Fisher, and meet him right now?" She tapped a finger on her chin, watching as something unspoken passed between John and Cortana.

"Sure, let's meet him." Cortana seemed at least enthusiastic enough; "Feel up for it, John?"

"I'm ready." He nodded, his deep voice making a shiver run down Anna's legs. Damn, he was going to suck up ladies like a magnet, that guy. Anna nodded, pushing aside the chairs before turning to the door. 117 made clearing of his throat; "Ma'am?"

"Yessssssssss?" she turned to regard him.

"Will it be too much to ask for the return of my helmet?"

"Sure. Need to wear that armor of yours anyway until we can get a suit of armor big enough. We'll find a place to store it near the others'. Sound good?"

"…I, would prefer to get it back now, actually, ma'am."

Anna cocked a brow, looking at the hulking soldier. That was… certainly an odd request. What, was he afraid of being shot while on the station?

"Why?"

"John's not used to being without it, Admiral." Cortana explained; "It's easier."

"Ah. Insecure, are we?" Anna didn't wait for a reply; "Sure, okay. I'll arrange for it to be brought to the nearby bacta-tank rooms. It's close by."

"What is in the bacta-rooms?" John asked.

"Service Chief Fisher."

"What do I need to know about him?"

"Oh, nothing much." Anna shrugged; "Just don't piss him off. He's taken down things you'd probably only see in your nightmares."

"Noted."

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Medical facility, Governmental Section

14:22

Thomas, clothed in pants and with his upper body laid bare, eyed the newly brought bionic limbs nervously. They were lying innocently enough on the table next to the gurney he was seated on, and the familiar sound of Emhart humming as he worked filled the room.

"So, I hear you got my arm trashed on the Citadel." Emhart stated.

"I didn't. The Cerberus fucktards were the ones who threw me into the wall." He muttered indignantly, tapping a finger on his thigh as he watched Emhart rummage through several containers with parts for the insertion of his new arm.

Since he had been drugged when the arm had come in the first time, he hadn't been aware of the socket made in his shoulder. Now, he had a perfectly nasty view of how the metallic-looking fusion merged with his flesh. A dry chuckle escaped him, while Ashley, Nikolai, Tequila and Hillary were waiting in chairs out in the hallway. Ashley was pacing in front of the door until Emhart had told her to stop giving him a headache.

Thomas just looked down at the socket;

"I look like a damn Lego robot…"

"Huh, yeah maybe, but at least you don't need some obnoxious ten-year old steering you around." Emhart mused with a wry smirk on his stubbed face; "Alright, you ready for this?"

Thomas looked from his shoulder to the doctor. The new arm was resting in his arms, and that in itself wasn't creepy at all.

"Are you going to put me under again?"

"What? Why'd I do that and waste the experience?" Emhart chuckled at the worried expression on Thomas' face; "'Sides, the second time doesn't hurt nearly as much."

"_Nearly_? Well now I'm so much-"

"Just go with it." Emhart broke him off and hefted the new arm towards him. It looked like a human arm in all but the joint, where the synthetic muscle and bone was visible. Gods, that just looked so wrong in the doctor's arms; "Alright, this is a new model, so I'll give you the rundown before we start the procedure."

"Yay?" Thomas stated uncertainly. Emhart grabbed the limb fingers of the new hand and spread them out, showing the palm;

"Okay. See this mismatched piece here?" he said, tapping a rectangular part of the palm. It was smaller than the thumb. Emhart pressed it hard, causing the surface to give a little. With a series of wet snaps and bends, the fingers of the hand folded up and back, making way for a hand-sized blade sliding out from beneath the synthetic skin.

Thomas paled a little.

"What…"

"The first version I gave you back then was purely strength-augmenting." He tapped the blade; "This is a military model, one of many actually. Seeing as I've been informed that you prefer close fighting, this model comes with an extendable blade of graphene, stock made of silicon so there won't be a problem with chafing or getting cut. A simple press of the palm will cause the blade to snap out."

Emhart then pressed the palm twice in succession, and the blade retracted into the arm again. Thomas glanced at the door and caught his colleagues looking on in surprise. In the meantime, Emhart put the limb down and retrieved a new one.

"This one…" he patted the arm, which was slightly thicker than the other one and seemed heavier too; "Is a new model meant for soldiers who just don't like the idea of getting disarmed. Until recently it was actually illegal, but after last December, a lot of restrictions were lifted."

"Right." The battle of the Citadel and the fact that a new unknown enemy had shot down a stealth-frigate had probably made Anna slightly anxious to get as much firepower as possible to the average G.I Joe.

"So…this one is neural-controlled…" Here Emhart plugged a wire into the open joint of the arm and pressed a command on his Omnitool. With a sound of spinning servos and synthetic tissue and metal peeling back, a single three-centimeter wide barrel protruded from the arm where the hand had just been. At the same time, a rectangular slot suddenly opened in the upper arm, showing where an ammo-block was supposed to be inserted. If Thomas had paled at the bladed arm, this one made his skin white as paper.

"What the…Hell?" he stuttered. Emhart just got a wicked glint to his eyes.

"A retractable single-barreled rifle. It's a small caliber, true, but not to be underestimated. Barrel length is 170mm, ammunition is eleven-forty-point-twenty-three millimeters at a firing rate of six-hundred rounds per minute." Emhart beamed a little; "With an effective range of twenty-five meters, it's basically your very own submachine gun. Real _handy_, if you catch my drift."

"Can I have one?!" Hillary called from the hallway. There was the sound of someone smacking her over the back of the head. Nikolai's chuckles were then cut off when he too seemed to received a smack on the head. Thank the gods for Tequila.

"I… I don't know." Thomas muttered, looking at the two weaponized left-arms. Both were… intimidating, for lack of better words, but he just didn't see how he could make it work with his life if one wrong movement, one wrong embrace could lead to him cutting Ashley or shooting someone.

"Of course you can also just get the defense-oriented model." Emhart said, procuring one last arm. It looked much like Thomas' old one, with the exception of a metallic stripe by the lower wrist; "This thing here is the newest from Xen's labs. It projects a shield of non-Newtonic fluids suspended by a handheld generator, supported in a frame of experimental hard-light."

Thomas looked on as Emhart pressed a new command on his own Omnitool, connected to the new arm. A holographic shield roughly the size of his torso flung itself out from the buzzing 3D-fabricators inlaid in the arm, then a fluid was pumped into the shield even as it unfolded to the size of a Roman Legionnaire's shield.

"Damn…"

"It can, of course, be adjusted in size, but this is the maximum version. The difference from a regular kinetic barrier is that this will stop missiles in their tracks. The only thing you need to worry about is refilling the fluids after it's taken a really bad hit. It's thermally recharged by your body, so no need to change the battery, and before you ask: _No_. you can't bash people over the head with this. It'll be like punching them with a wet blanket."

"I still want the machinegun!" Hillary called from the hallway, followed by a solid _thwack_ as a hand hit the back of her head. _Wonder if she gets brain damage from that._

Then again, it was Hillary. She was probably immune to that stuff anyway.

"So, what'll be your poison?" Emhart looked excited like he was presenting wares for the next big fashion show. It reminded Thomas a bit of Bob, the Scotsman who'd run Bob's Guns on Eden Prime. He never did find out if the man was killed or managed to escape.

The choice was between a blade, a hidden machinegun and a shield. So it was sword, spear and shield. Thomas chewed on his cheek, looking between the three limbs. He'd already once used a sword, and found it to be destroyed when he went over the edge. The inbuilt gun was nice, but made him feel too much like a human weapon.

"Does the shield handle biotic attacks?"

"Mmm. Anything less than a full-on shockwave should be stopped in its tracks. Don't test it against a singularity though, but other than that, the hard-light will maintain the shield against most punches the average Asari could throw your way." Emhart mused with a finger on his cheek.

"The shield then." Thomas nodded at the third arm; "…my main cause of injury is people shooting biotics at me."

"Ah, I knew you'd be in for the finer stuff." Emhart rubbed his hands gleefully; "Now, normally this kind of hardware would be in the higher price-grades, but… a certain Admiral moved for the 'Endure and Overwhelm'-act, which means any and all bionic replacements, upgrades and alterations for Alliance serving personnel is pre-paid by the Alliance."

"Anna." Thomas sighed with a mounting grin; "I love that woman sometimes."

"Mmm. Most fear her though. Still, I can understand the feeling." Emhart nodded, grabbing the chosen limb; "Now, wanna get started?"

"Is it going to hurt?" Thomas asked in a voice low enough that the people in the hallway couldn't hear him. Emhart seemed to think about the answer.

"Only… the painful part will be the reconnecting of the nerves. I'm going to give you a local sedation, but you'll still feel a sting." The prosthetics doctor explained; "Do you want miss Williams in here when we do it?"

Thomas shook his head.

"Just get it done." He knew she would probably see it as stupid macho-stuff, or just an attempt at misguided chivalry, but he hated when she had to see him in pain; "I'm fine."

"Suit yourself." Emhart said, injecting a stim into Thomas' shoulder. He grit his teeth and fought down the urge to escape the needle. It was easer now though, than it had been the first time Emhart had put him under. Most likely because he'd been through less back then. His overall handling of needles had improved, apparently.

Without further words, Emhart plugged the arm into Thomas' shoulder-socket. The initial sensation was cold. Then it was warm as Emhart turned the limb a little. Then, with a twist and a push, Emhart connected the new arm fully. Pain flared through his body, like napalm had been poured into the veins in his shoulder before burning through the entire system from there on out.

And this was _with_ local sedation? Fuck!

The hallway was connected to the rest of the station via a single slide-door. The hiss of the door opening was deafened by the pained hiss escaping Thomas' lips as his nerves connected to the new limb, and the brain suddenly had to get reacquainted with a left arm;

"Mother of- Fuck!" he hissed, pressing his eyes closed to endure the pain.

"Language, Thomas." An unexpected voice suddenly said from the doorway. Thomas snapped up with eyes opening, seeking an explanation as to why he could suddenly hear Anna's voice in the room. He was fairly sure she hadn't been in the room just before; "You have a guest. Behave."

"Wha…" he started, trailing off as his eyes found his sister. And more importantly, found his colleagues looking a bit startled at the sight of a two-two-fifty meter man, armored from top to toe in a set of massive, green armor. Looking a bit upwards as well, he found the man's face was hidden behind a golden visor, betraying nothing beyond it; "Oh…"

"Is…that…" Nikolai started in the hallway, mouth moving a lot more than words were allowed out. He honestly looked like a heart attack was fast approaching; "Is this some… sort of…Oh. My. God."

Thomas more than understood the reaction. His skin felt like it went full electric, neck-hairs standing while tingling with both pleasure and a strange sense of nausea. Unless Anna had just come up with the idea for a new set of armor, which in itself wasn't all that impossible, what he was looking at was more or less blowing his mind.

In hindsight though, it really shouldn't come as a surprise on top of meeting Delta-Squad.

"Anna…" he muttered, trying to blink away the blur forming over his eyes. Emhart tightened the new arm again, causing a fresh wave of pain to surge through him. In a way though, he was grateful that the doctor provided the distraction, painful as it was; "Shit! That stung."

"Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, Service Chief Thomas Fisher, Service Chief Aquila, Privates Tengberg and Pennyloafer." Anna nodded around, then nodded at the hulking soldier. Holy Divines, she'd seriously pulled the longest straw this time; "Meet the newest member of your team."

"Fuck me sideways…" Nikolai wheezed.

"Private First Class John-117. At your service." Even though Thomas had never had any interest in Bungee's games, he still knew exactly what that armor entailed, and who the man was. Thus, he was struck with confusion when he processed the spoken rank.

Glancing at Emhart as the doctor moved away, Thomas jumped from the gurney as Ashley, being the highest ranking soldier there excluding Anna, greeted the newcomer. The haze of pain and nerves resettling made it difficult for him to follow the short introduction, but he did realize when John looked towards him.

"John-117, Service Chief Thomas Fisher." He greeted the massive soldier with a handshake. Thomas, mindful of the man's size and strength, prepared himself for a crushing grip; "Welcome to the team."

The grip was firm, but surprisingly not-crushing.

"Sir." The Master Chief, and Thomas really couldn't think of him as anything but (especially not a private. Hel, was he _Master Chief's_ superior? Daaaaamn!) replied respectfully; "I have been briefed on some of your service-history."

"Hopefully not the part where he got his ass kicked on Feros?" Tequila said, leaning against the doorway. That was another thing. When the hell had she been promoted? He sent her a glare. Feros wasn't a place he liked to remember, for various reasons.

"Hopefully," Thomas pressed to overrule Tequila; "only good things, I trust?"

"Yes sir." John said, his golden visor betraying nothing of his expression.

"…Great." Thomas smiled. It was a forced smile, which was mostly forced because he could already sense how the socially inept super-soldier would be… awkward to be around.

While on one hand Nikolai seemed to be in the middle of a fangasm, he himself on the other hand was wary of working with someone he knew from a picture and almost nothing else. He knew Master Chief was the protagonist from the Halo series, but apart from that… Nothing.

Not knowing the man made him feel slightly uneasy.

Nikolai, on the other hand, was more or less bouncing in place.

"Okay. Well, welcome to, Private." Ashley ended the awkward silence; "Have you been briefed on the team?"

"I'll get him the dossiers later on." Anna answered for him; "For now, I just figured the six of you could get introduced, then I'll have someone direct-"

"Why's he wearing a helmet inside here?" Hillary mused, interrupting Anna. The admiral sent the young blonde a flat, tired stare. Tequila smacked her over the head.

"…direct him to his new quarters. Private, do you make a habit out of breaking the rules of conduct?" Anna finished.

"What? He could be anyone behind that helmet." Hillary argued; "I mean, what if it's an evil clone and he'll replace us all with evil clones too?"

Another _thwack_ as Tequila's palm smacked Hillary's blonde head. The blonde shut up.

"Williams, can I leave this guy here for a few minutes without subjecting him to mental scarring?" Anna glanced at Ashley, the younger woman sighing.

"Yes, ma'am." Ashley replied; "He won't come to harm."

"Can't believe I'm already worried before anyone's even shot at him…" Anna grumbled before looking (up) at John-117; "You scared yet?"

"…Ma'am?" Master Chief inquired in mild confusion. Anna gave him a pat on the shoulder;

"Don't worry, they don't bite." She smirked, then turned and left, leaving the group in an awkward silence. Silence, bar Nikolai who looked like he might throw up or faint if the green-armored soldier so much as spoke to him.

"Okay." Thomas sighed; "Doctor Emhart, mind giving us some privacy?"

The doctor paused in his activities. Said activities seemed to be using the blade-arm to slice up pre-heated sausages, and he looked mildly surprised at the request.

"You know, some days I think I miss out on a whole lot of awesome stuff." The man huffed, then exited the room while pushing the trolley with excess arms before him.

The group looked after the doctor until he was out the door, before returning their attention inwards. Thomas breathed before resuming;

"John-117." He started, catching the man's full attention; "Am I correct to believe that your rank used to be that of Master Chief?"

"Yes, sir." The man replied.

Ashley, Tequila and Hillary stared at him. Ashley seemed mildly surprised, Tequila amused and Hillary looked like she might have another round of her reactions on Thomas revealing his past.

"And… you came here, very recently?" At the man's nod, Thomas felt a small frown mounting. He pressed it down; "_How_ recently?"

"The first of March this year, as per your calendar."

"That's…Wait." He looked at Ashley; "What day is it today?"

"Sunday, March the fourth." She replied; "You've been in the bacta for little less than two weeks."

"Huh." He nodded. That was sadly not even all that surprising. Really, sometimes he wondered if Roku hadn't chosen the wrong guy to play host. _And where the Hel is that geth anyway?_ "Okay, so you've been here for three days?"

"Yes."

"And… how exactly did you end up here?"

"More or less the same way as you, Sir." The hulking soldier replied.

"What, green lightning, death by train and a piss-annoying god getting on your case?" Thomas laughed dryly. It was mostly good-natured though. Roku had saved his ass more than once.

"No." Master Chief replied; "A nuclear bomb that detonated prematurely."

"All men have that problem, dude." Hillary chuckled; "Don't sweat it."

The entire group, John included, leveled a unified flat look at Hillary. She just smirked and leaned back in her chair.

"Sex-jokes." An unseen woman's voice laughed, seemingly coming from the hulking soldier; "Seems like we're in fine company, John."

"Oh sweet, buttery Jesus!" Nikolai whispered; "Was that…God."

"Cortana." John clarified as if he believed Nikolai had called his AI 'God'. Really, there was some great entertainment-value in that. Thomas pressed a pair of fingers on the bridge of his nose. Gods, this was becoming a joke _way_ too fast.

"Right. Okay, so here's the short version." Thomas said; "You were brought here, by Anna?"

"Your sister, yes."

Thomas blinked. He hadn't expected the Chief to know _that_ part of the story. Had Anna just decided that the secret was out?

"Did… she tell you that?" He asked in a low voice. The Chief nodded; "Huh. What else has she shared with you that I, _we_ should know about?"

"You are members of Taskforce 'Aspect of Fire', part of the preparation for the Reapers, a force of manifested dark gods intending on harvesting the galaxy of life." John said with a firm voice, like it had been rehearsed.

"'Aspect of Fire'?" Hillary laughed; "Fuck, that's just cheesy. Who the hell came up with that name?"

John gave Hillary a flat stare. At least, that was what it looked like when it was impossible to actually see his face.

"The Admiral."

"Yep. Nutty old bat." Hillary mused, then seemed to realize that Thomas was glaring at her as well; "What? It's a good thing."

"I so…" Thomas started, then looked back at the towering soldier; "Anything else?"

"You are a first-generation Chi-Soldier, capable of harnessing the network of energy in your body. Also, there were others on the taskforce not from this place."

"Huh. So it's "Chi-Soldier" now, eh?" Tequila mused with what seemed like a small smirk of pride; "Well, I'm one too, just in case you wanna know."

"Beyond the designation, what's in a Chi-soldier anyway?" Cortana asked from the man's helmet. At the looks sent his way, the Chief pulled what looked like a small disk from his helmet and held it forth. A blue, miniature woman popped up from it; "Hey guys."

There was a heavy _thud_ and a clatter of trashing equipment as Nikolai collapsed on the floor.

Hillary seemed to choke on laughter before she gained a surprisingly solemn expression;

"…Why is there a naked smurf in his hand?"

"Come a- I am _not_ naked!" Cortana retorted; "And I'm not a smurf."

Hillary paled.

"To return to your question, Cortana, a Chi-soldier is basically someone who can harness the chi-network in the body." Thomas said, holding out his right hand. A bright, emerald flame danced over the skin of his palm; "In my case, it's in the form of fire."

"Wicked." Cortana chuckled at the sight. The Chief-turned-private 'hmm'ed in agreement. Cortana turned to look at Tequila; "Wait, you're one too?"

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna demonstrate." Tequila huffed; "Unless you want me to tear a wall down."

"I like these guys already." The AI grinned; "What else's new?"

"Got a god on the team." Anna said, striding into the room with a datapad in her hands; "Named the taskforce after him, but 'Taskforce Roku' would've sounded dumb."

"A god?" John asked in clear disbelief.

"Yes." Anna nodded as she jabbed the datapad into his hands; "Roku's responsible for any of us even being here. You'll meet him later, but for now, 117, come with me. We'll get you situated."

"Ma'am." John nodded, then nodded to the rest of them and left with Anna.

The group looked after them as they left, a certain air of incredibility surrounding the two. Cortana was plugged back into the Chief's helmet. As the newcomer left their sight, the group's eyes slowly went to the collapsed form of Nikolai on the floor.

"So…" Hillary started, a wicked grin forming on her face; "Who's got a black marker?"


	22. True Colors

**True Colors**

* * *

March 5th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Governmentally Issued Apartment, Civilian Sector.

17:22

John-117, formerly known as the Master Chief, stood in his new 'home'. The normal human in him appreciated that he had never had a place to call his own 'private' home, and had never lived in a place this large. It had a living room, a bathroom with his own shower, a small office he wanted to re-do into a training-room (the unorthodox Admiral had already suggested the same after she shrugged and mentioned that the former occupant had been an aspiring author and had died on the Citadel)

It also had a bedroom with a bed he believed was called 'king-sized', actually broad enough that he could stretch out on it. It was softer than anything he had ever slept on, and Cortana had jokingly noted that maybe he should have blown himself up much sooner.

The soldier in him looked at the place and saw just how many openings the apartment had.

The bedroom was open to the rest of the station via a polarized window-pane. A skilled sharpshooter would be more than capable of shooting a sleeping victim through the window. The bed itself could be jury-rigged, and a timed explosive or sensory-activated bomb could be planted in the mattress. The bed also was too high for him to be able to comfortably snatch his sidearm from the floor in a moment.

Hence, he had spent the first night sleeping on the carpeted floor.

The living room didn't have any windows, but the eating-area and the couch could both be fired upon from the entre, and the table, even when flipped over, couldn't stop a bullet from even a small handgun. It was just plain old wood, no armored reinforcing or anything.

Clearly, he would have to make some changes.

At least they had figured out how to remove his armor. While he was careful and wary of his surroundings at all times, John wasn't very keen on sleeping in his armor. Still, the fatigues and shoes he had been given were many numbers too small, and the walk to the apartment from the service-station had been…uncomfortable.

"John?" Cortana popped up in front of the small drone the admiral had set to roam his apartment. The only reason he allowed the foreign construct to be in there was that it allowed him to actually be in the same room as Cortana, not just when she was in his helmet or held in his hand.

Seeing her human-sized was… it made something stir in him.

"Cortana."

"Have you even taken a look at the dossiers yet?" she crossed her arms, looking at him with that admonishing look she gave him when she thought he was being too intense on something and neglecting something else.

"Yes." He lied. Honestly he had forgotten about them altogether. The fact that there was an apparent god on the taskforce had taken all the attention he had to give.

"…and?" she gestured for him to continue, blue hands going in an urging circle. When he didn't know what to say, he was terrible at lying to her, Cortana sighed; "You haven't looked at them, have you?"

"…No."

"Well, might as well." She said, hands pulling data-files from the air around them, a trick of the eye as she just pulled them from the wireless connections of the station, and produced the dossiers Admiral Fisher had given him.

"There is more purpose to investigating the allegations of a god being present." John argued. Cortana though, like the caring, often-too much, admonishing woman she was, just palmed her hips;

"Fine, if you won't sit down and read, I'll read for you."

"Understood." Because sitting down would mean leaving himself open to an attack from a yet unknown angle. Just because the Admiral might be straight with him didn't mean that there would be no political intrigues and crossing of interests that he had unwillingly stepped into.

"Fine." She huffed. For show, since she had no need for breathing. John often found himself forgetting that, AI though she was.

He was just relieved and more so than he had ever thought he _could_ be, that she was no longer in risk from the Rampancy.

"First one is one Jane Shepard. Captain of the team's former vessel, the SSV Normandy, and leader of the team. She's a biotic and a member of the N7-program, a military elite similar to the Spartan-threes."

"Biotic?" he asked, looking at the AI from where he was trying to work around the new designs of the coffee-machine. Cortana smirked a little.

"Biotics are individuals with telekinetic abilities. Unlike what the Didact did, biotics seem to work by manipulating the mass of an object. I'll prepare a file for you on that one."

"Good."

"Okay, next one is…oh, wait, he's deceased." Cortana muttered; "Surprised he's still on the dossiers."

"Who?" John asked, then immediately yanked his hand back as scalding coffee poured from another tap than the one his cup was under; "Son of a-"

"John'Shepard. Quarian, former commander of same ship as the other Shepard. No familial ties, so the name is probably just a coincidence. Huh…he was a biotic as well. I'll make that file a priority."

"Do that. Who's next? The Gunnery Chief?"

"Right on it." Cortana allowed a small nod before returning to her all-business mode. She had a way of going between those; "Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, long-to-medium range fighter, proficient with Sniper-rifles, Assault rifles and handguns. She used to be garrison-commander of the 212th on a planet by the name of Eden Prime."

"An officer then. Why did she leave?"

"…Seems like… her garrison was attacked. Of several hundred marines, only she and two others made it out alive." Cortana didn't blink as John wiped his coffee-soaked hands in his pants. It was not very professionally done, but then again, there was only the two of them in here; "The two others are on the team as well. Go figure."

"Continue."

"Right. Then there's Service Chief Thomas Fisher."

"The Admiral's brother." John said for her. It was still an amazingly odd thing to consider, and even more so to believe, but… he was here now, wasn't he? Cortana had been checking up: there was nothing out there bearing any traits of the UNSC. No ships, no records, no ruins, no nothing.

It was as if it had never existed.

"Yes. Fisher has a basis mastery of handguns, shotguns and assault rifles. Records state that he shows little to no potential with long-distance weaponry. Being a Chi-soldier, he mostly engages the enemy in close-quarters."

"Close-range fighter. Understood."

There had been something about meeting the Service Chief. John wasn't sure what it was, but it was clear the young man had known more about him than he had told anyone but the Admiral, and according to the admiral, she hadn't told anything to the crew. The initial reactions had confirmed that statement.

And yet. Fisher had known about him, that much was clear. John kept this to himself, but there was something to investigate there. Had Fisher, the younger one that was, come from his own universe. And if so, had the Admiral too?

"Right. Then there's Service Chief Teresa Aquila, commonly referred to as Tequila. She has a proficiency for assault rifles and sniper-rifles, as well as handguns. She also occasionally makes use of a light machinegun carried by exoskeleton."

"Sounds familiar." He said, snapping back into focus. He'd have to investigate Fisher later.

"Yes, reminds me of Palmer." Cortana tapped her cheek as she continued; "She is also a Chi-soldier with focus on defense. Seems like she can rip apart steel like tissue-paper."

"Noted." Right. He would make a notice of _not_ getting into a serious hand-to-hand fight with her.

"Then we have Boss… seems like there was a number here earlier." Cortana's brows furrowed a little in pondering. It was… cute, for lack of proper words.

"Boss?"

"Genetically cloned commando-soldier from the Andromeda galaxy. The Alliance recently made contact with them, it seems. However,… his service _predates_ first contact. Odd, I'll make a file on him."

"Specifics?"

"He's an all-around super-soldier, bit like you really." Cortana mused. John knew she was trying to see if he would race out and challenge this 'Boss' to something. As if he was a child who would do something like that.

Now where was there a shooting-range to be found?

"Makes use of experimental weaponry, a plasma-rifle firing ionized gas instead of the usual slugs you'd find in guns around here. Other than that, he's more or less an expert in any kind of weapon you'd be able to find."

"I see. Next."

"Next one is Corporal Adrian Dwaine Shepard. Seriously, how many Shepards are on this team?"

"Three in total, two alive." John replied. Because he knew Cortana had been rhetoric, and he felt in a good enough mood to play a bit around with her. It was rare he did it, and he knew his sense of humor was rusty, but he tried.

"Yep, I know. Seems like someone's tried erasing the 'Shepard' part of his name though. Odd. Anyway, he's proficient with handguns, sub-machineguns, shotguns, assault rifles and sniper rifles."

"Noted. Service history?" Maybe there was a connection that tied all these Shepards together. It would be worth looking into, at least.

"Served seven years as security in a marine garrison on the planet Valhalla. When Reaper-forces attacked, he joined the team and escaped, sole surviving soldier, plus a pair of mildly traumatized guards, one of which constantly proclaimed he was going to die. Figures."

"Soldiers sometimes break down." John said; "Spartans don't."

"Right, because the perfect soldiers can't be humans." Cortana scoffed good-naturedly; "Anyway…Private First Class Nikolai Tengberg. Joined the team shortly after Fisher and Williams, and shortly before Aquila. He's mostly using a heavy, tri-barreled smart LMG, as well as occasionally making use of regular small-arms. As with Fisher, can't be trusted to hold a sniper, though the Captain apparently gave him one for the last mission…also he used to cook for the crew."

"Crew? The team?"

"…No. He was the cook on the SSV Normandy. According to reviews, he made some killer curry chicken." Cortana noted with a little sadness. While she could perfectly simulate the nerve-reactions and synaptic connections made when tasting food, it just wasn't the real thing.

"Can't believe they serve actually tasty food in their navy."

"My, John, was that a joke?" Cortana giggled a bit at his rusty sense of humor. Well of course it was rusty, half his waking hours were usually spent trying to maintain and preserve humanity's bare existence.

There wasn't a whole lot of basis for joking. Not back then.

"Maybe." He said, voice neutral as ever; "Who's next?"

"Well, last one is Pfc. Hillary Pennyloafer. Multi-weapon specialist with extensive CQC, Explosive and Counter-terrorism training. According to records, she was the third survivor from Eden Prime, is related to the pilot though no signs of nepotism appear, and the only actual mission she partook in during the Saren-campaign was the Battle of the Citadel."

"Rather diverse for an elite team." He noted, actually looking over the files in Cortana's hands.

"You should see the vids then." She chuckled. There was something to what he had said that she seemed to find amusing. John-117 didn't know what he had said though.

Still, it seemed he would be in good company.

* * *

March 6th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Apartment rented by Ashley M. Williams and Thomas V. Fisher, Civilian sector

18:37

Darkness and the occasional tingle of light behind his eyelids was all he saw.

_Deep. Breath._

For his inner eyes, Thomas saw the air as a small sphere of energy. It came down and danced when he breathed in.

_Hold._

The energy danced, like a playful wisp in his chest.

_Exhale._

The energy rose up, swirling like a vortex as it vanished in the upper corners of his dark vision.

_Inhale._

_Hold._

_Exhale._

The exercise was a great help at relaxing his nerves, and calming the headaches that had plagued his mind since the failed mission on the Citadel. The knowledge that he could have died, and had been damn close to doing so, was heavy on his mind like a cold hand.

The last thing he had seen, the fast approaching wall, kept replaying in his mind the moment he let his concentration falter. As opposed to the times where he had actually died, or just been dying like on Virmire, the incident on the Citadel could have been the end of it.

Seemed like the universe was determined to shove his mistakes in his face whenever it got the chance. And it wasn't even because Roku was a source of support in this either. The Aspect of Fire, and why the hell had Anna called the task-force that, was adamant that the whole thing was to blame on Thomas' overconfidence and his continued lack of control.

This time, Thomas was starting to think the Aspect might have a point.

_Inhale._

_Hold._

_Exhale._

The exercise had been going on for some hours now, interrupted only by the sounds Ashley made when she left and returned to the apartment, carrying stuff in plastic bags. Despite trying to concentrate, Thomas had let a small smile crease his lips at that. It was his turn to whip up some delicious dinner tonight.

_Inhale._

_Hold._

_Exhale._

Instead of seeing the dancing wisp, he now saw the recipe for the meal in his mind. It was kinda strange, imagining a dish like that, but he had made it enough times that he knew exactly how to do it and what to use. Ash had just been picking up the last of the stuff he'd needed, and… was that a heavy _chunk_ of glass on the kitchen counter? He hadn't asked for a bottle or jar. Odd.

_Inhale._

_Hold._

_Exhale._

Dancing wisp once more. The azure energy floated in the direction of his breath, a soft hue of its light illuminating his mind's darker corners. It showed him, or maybe he just imagined it, the flow of energy in his own body. He could feel, _see_ the way the energy coursed through his veins, through the network of threads in his body. Invisible threads that only were formed when he focused his energy.

A biological impossibility.

Yet, it was there. The network ran, not like the blood-carrying veins, but beneath the skin in the pattern of the glowing lines that would come to sight when he focused hard enough. Thomas didn't know if it was a prerequisite for one or the other, if the lines had to be there for him to use his powers fully, or if his lines didn't come before he had used his powers.

Roku hadn't been much help on that account.

_Inhale._

_Hold._

_Exhale._

He saw their newest member. John-117. Was this man the actual and very same John-117 so famous in the lines and circles of people who seemed more interested in the wild and odd story of some sort of abducted super-soldier? Thomas didn't know, and frankly, until he knew more about the man, he didn't care about his origins.

Super Soldier or not, the 'Master Chief' or whatever Thomas was going to call him, was now _his_ subordinate. Didn't matter that they all reported to Jane, and in the end Anna. _He_ was one of 117's commanding officers, weird as it felt, and he would make sure to give the man no leeway to rob neither him, Ash or Jane of their command. Fuck it all, he didn't trust the man.

_Inhale…_

_Hold._

_Exhale…_

No. the problem wasn't that he mistrusted 117, and he refused to call him John. The problem was, that while Thomas didn't care for the man's origins, he cared very much about the soldier not expecting some sort of position of command. He cared very much about some complete foreigner _not_ taking charge of a team, a patchwork family that had been through absolute, fucking Hell and back together, had suffered, endured and survived together.

That _had not_ all been so that some otherworldly commando could swoop in and take charge. Fuck it all, he would not just end up being ordered around by a man who wouldn't even show his face to the people supposed to trust him.

That, actually, seemed like the main issue. 117 seemed to carry no trust towards anyone around him, and hadn't even bothered taking off his helmet at the meeting. Was that some sort of 'Lone Wolf' bullshit about not getting attached?

_INHALE!_

_Exhale…_

_Inhale._

_Exhale._

_Inhale…_

_Hold…_

_Exhale…_

Fine. Calm down. There was no use in getting worked up now. Not now, when there would come nothing of it, aside from a major headache.

Thomas opened his eyes and exhaled again. There was no way he'd be able to meditate when so pissed off. But, at least now he knew _why_ he was pissed off. It was an odd reason for it, but it did make sense. When in war, and just generally on missions, you had to be able to trust the people around you. If 117 didn't trust them enough to even show his face…

Then, could they truly trust him?

"Thom, you about done?" Ashley's head poked through the door to their bedroom. Thomas gave her a forced smile, probably not fooling her, and unfolded his legs from the Indian-sit he'd been doing. Ashley leaned against the doorframe, watching him with pleased eyes as he, wearing only his shorts and socks, slid from the bed and stretched; "You know, you had that broody look of yours again. Something wrong?"

Thomas' forced smile vanished, replaced by a tired sigh as he looked at her, as she was in the doorway. Civilian white garments beneath that blue skirt of hers, with a white, loose shirt hanging over her upper body, just short enough to reveal some deliciously cute navel.

"Thomas?"

A warm smirk, with a bit of goody embarrassment spread across his face as he realized he'd gotten lost in her belly-button instead of answering her. Keeping his eyes on her, trailing them up her front to her eyes, he slowly shook his head.

"Just… thinking over the things that's happened these past few days. Meditating was supposed to make me relax more, but… just made me think." He said, standing with rolling toes at the foot of the bed. _Our bed._

"The Citadel?" she asked, her warm expression replaced with a bit of concern.

"Amongst." He nodded, looking at the wall. Ashley sighed, watching him with that expression of hers that could mean so many things at once, and yet only mean one at the same time.

He grabbed the shirt from the chair next to their bed, _our bed,_ and pulled it over his head. As the piece of clothing, a dark green t-shirt he'd found in an store going with older classes, was halfway down, a light and playful jab in his belly-button sent electricity through him with a small, undignified yelp.

Ashley had _cold_ hands.

And now she was laughing at him.

"Banshee." He growled and swiped at her, blinded behind the shirt. Ashley just kept laughing, and the soft sound of her feet moving on the carpeted floor of the bedroom. He could more or less tell where she was, and while he _could_ just pull down the shirt, this way was more fun. And it helped his mood.

A new jab in his sides, and he turned to face his opponent, only for the sound of her feet to tap away over the floor.

"Over here." She called.

Thomas grabbed again.

"Over _here_." Ashley called from a new place. Thomas turned again and grabbed, just feeling the touch of something on the tip of his fingers. He'd been turning around so many times, he didn't know which way was what.

"Over heeeeere." She cooed from before him. At least he had the general direction now. Damn, was there even going to be time for dinner if things went like he imagined?

"Ash, where- Whoa!" his knees hit the edge of the bed. While he could easily keep his balance, suddenly a pair of arms snaked around his waist and pushed him forward, over the edge and onto the bed. He laughed at the realization that she had yanked off her shirt, and the fabric of her bra pressed against his bare back, soft mounds pressing behind them.

"No need for that shirt of yours." She whispered into his ear through the fabric of the shirt. There was a very, very suggestive tone to her voice. Thomas grinned with anticipation.

"What about dinner?" he mused, pulling the shirt back off his head again, then turned his head and kissed her lips. A quick, soft touch of her mouth on his, red lips parting to meet him. A low growl of pleasure rose, he wasn't sure who of them made it, vibrating through their mouths with a soft sound to it.

"Dinner can wait a bit." Ashley purred, guiding his hands behind her back to where the bra was fastened; "Right now…"

Their fingers together unmade the hatch holding the garment.

"…you need to relax." One of her hands tossed the bra aside, then she lowered her body back down onto his back. The feeling of her skin on his, unbroken contact with the soft mounds centered around slightly standing peeks. Intoxicating.

"I'm pretty sure I like this kind of…relaxation." He sighed, this time happily as he felt her weight move on his back. There was a certain kind of powerlessness to it that just heightened the sensation, knowing he was completely at peace with being unable to move beneath her, to let her take the steps.

It was kind of a fun game.

"Mmmmmm…" Ashley hummed in agreement, shifting her weight again. Her right side pressed down harder on his back, the breast cushioning her like a soft pillow. It only went so far though, before he could feel it harden on his skin, and small interruptions in her heavy breathing, showed that Ashley felt it too; "There we go."

The weight shifted back, and something sounding like plastic was opened. Before he asked, Thomas remembered the massage-oil on the bedside table, a small quarter-liter plastic bottle. That was probably what she had retrieved, and the thought made Thomas grin with anticipation. His body wanted to turn around beneath her, straddle his woman and take her.

But his mind knew to wait.

They had made a habit out of massaging each other after each of his spars with Roku, though in fact only _he_ had needed the massage, they just came to shifting the roles. And there was little regret there: massaging Ashley, massaging her oily, glinting skin to release tensions, causing her to moan in pleasure… things tended to spiral from that point.

The cold liquid hitting his bare back sent shivers of both delight and coolness down his spine. Ashley's firm, soft hands soon followed, travelling from his shoulder blades to his lower spine, stopping only where the rim of his pants halted her. _Damn. She could have continued_.

But gods, it was so _good._

It didn't matter that he had a raging erection from the anticipation and feeling of her breasts on his back, he _enjoyed_ this far too much to break it off, even for sex. This time, he _knew_ he was the source of the soft moan of pleasure.

"Gods…what are you doing…to me…?" he muttered, feeling drowsy with pleasure. It felt like every nerve in his body was dancing with joy, and his back was tingling with pleasure.

"You'll see…" Ashley mused, still on his back, hands pressing up and down his body. It was as if every single touch, made him love her so infinitely more, something he hadn't known possible. It was as if every single touch, made fires of passion roar through his body, fires of love through his veins.

He moaned with pleasure.

"Alright lazy-pants, off with them." Ashley ordered with a grin to her voice, standing from him. For a moment, he felt as if his back was made from jelly, spine removed and left in a jar somewhere. Ashley stopping, only made him realize how much he wanted her.

"Huh?" it took some time for his hormone-dulled mind to process her words.

"Pants. Off with them or you'll get a rim-stain."

Thomas tried getting up, more than willing to obey her in this. But his body simply wouldn't comply, and left him lying on the bed like a vegetable, arms futilely grabbing at the clothing.

"Can't…get up…Please?"

"You're such a man-child." She chided, but started pulling at the edges of his pant-legs. With some work, and him doing what he could to suck in his stomach, the pestering pants came off and hit the wall with a _thud_.

"And you lovez it…" he grinned silly, looking at her gorgeous body from the corner of his left eye. Ashley stopped to look at him and grinned when she saw his eyes on her. She turned her side and reached up, bionic arm nearly impossible to tell from the real one, causing her already perfect breasts to stand out more. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, completely done in by the sight.

"Yeah." She teased him with her eyes; "I kinda do."

"God… you're…" he trailed off as he realized he couldn't find a suitable word to describe her. Objectively, she was sexy as hell. To him, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but put to word…he didn't know what to say, so instead changed his comment; "How did I ever deserve you?"

"Well, Mum seemed to think you do." She said, stepping out of the remainder of her clothes so that only the panties remained. The skirt was piled with his pants when they hit the wall; "And I _definitely_ think you do."

"Did it hurt?" Thomas asked, making his face as serious as possible. Ashley stopped, looking at him with a little wonder in her eyes.

"Did what hurt?"

"When you fell from Heaven?" he finished, allowing the huge grin to spread across his face at the cheesy pick-up line. Ashley stared at him for a moment, then hurled one of her socks at him. It fell far short and hit the pillow next to him, but was soon followed when went in herself. Thomas just remained on his back, bionic eye gazing upon the now almost-naked woman as she straddled his back again, tube of oil in hand.

"That an old pick-up line?" she joked, squirting oil on his lower back. Thomas grinned at the fact that the line seemingly had been lost in time, and nodded;

"Yeah, kinda is." He admitted; "But what else was I to say? Naked, heathen goddess of sex, or angel, which do you prefer?"

"Damn." She laughed softly, working her way down his butt and to his thighs; "I don't know, both are… Wait a minute, are you just trying to get laid?"

"Guilty as charged." He held up his hands in surrender, which was kinda hard when he was lying chest-down on the bed. In response, she smacked him on the ass;

"You're a bad boy, aren't you?" her sultry tone demanded. Thomas trembled slightly with pleasure and anticipation as she leaned forward on his back, naked breasts once more on his bare skin.

"If I say yes, do I get a reward?"

Ashley leaned forward, mouth to his ear. The feeling of her hot breath on his skin made the hairs stand on his neck.

"You just might."

Feeling his desire burning through his veins, Thomas lost what control he had left and rolled around, causing Ashley to fall onto the bed next to him with a mildly surprised, yet highly amused sound. Thomas rolled to be face to face with her, his blue eyes locked with her brown orbs.

"Can I get it now?" he asked, voice low and husky. He was getting harder and harder down below.

Ashley's hand sought downwards, gently touching the bulge in his underpants. The air vanished from his throat as he felt her fingers glide across the thin fabric separating skin from skin. His mouth went dry with lust as her nimble, oil-slick hand slid the elastic fabric from his waist, revealing the now-horizontally erect part of him.

"Just…wait." She murmured, voice low, filled with seductive undertones and promises of sensualities. As her hand, slick with oil, gripped his erect member, Thomas pressed his eyes shut and craned his neck backwards as the tremors went through him.

Her fingers, soft yet firm, encircled him as they started working their way back and forth, going from the base of his member to the very tip. Once, the clear liquids coming out now would have embarrassed him. Now, he hardly noticed on top of the mind-blowing pleasure.

Low groans of pleasure escaped him, the ability to speech completely gone. The fact and knowledge, the sensations and feelings exploding through him were too much for his mind to remain conscious.

"Damn." Ashley exclaimed, Thomas didn't known at what. He couldn't hear anything but the sound of his heart beating, the steady, pulsing rhythm of blood pumping through veins, his ears roaring with the small, silent sound of throbbing, of skin on skin. He could only feel his skin tingle, electric as Ashley's hand worked on him.

Her other hand reached his chin and grabbed it, pulling him down into a feverish kiss, one which he immediately responded to, almost like instinct. Her open mouth came upon his, lips locking as his tongue, burning with desire, beat hers to it and entered her mouth. Bypassing entirely the ritual of asking silent permission, he locked tongues with her, beginning their dance of passion as the massaged each other.

Each touch, each taste of her mouth, her tongue, her cheek and her spit, made him burn ever so hot with passion, an insatiable hunger for the woman with him. He couldn't get enough of her, of her mouth, of her hand on him, of her essence.

His hand, out of mind and control, sought downwards, gliding along her skin, downwards ever downwards, until he found the small, soft fabric of her last barrier. Without even thinking twice, without opening his eyes, he reached behind and below it, inside it to the opening of her being.

In their mouths, Ashley's tongue did a roll, pressing his against the ceiling like she was getting electrocuted. For just a moment. Then she relaxed, letting him know it was good and continued, allowing his hand to gently, ever so gently, touch and caress the center of her pleasure, the small, innocently looking and feeling bead that yet sent her tongue slamming down on his whenever he rubbed it.

She was hot and wet around his thumb and forefinger, warmth and liquids coating him, slicking his skin as he worked to bring her the same pleasure she was giving him. The ecstasy was bringing him to the point of bursting.

"I want you." Ashley breathed into his ear, lips shutting on its lower, soft part in a gentle bite. Her voice was husky, powerful and demanding. Thomas shivered with desire, his mind shutting down all but the single function now needing filled. His hand worked inside her without him even taking notice of it, only the increasingly heavy breathing washing over his ear.

Her hand was firm on his erect member, oily and slick and warm and pulsating. He could feel the blood throbbing in his erection, could feel it pulse against Ashley's hand, against her grip. He could feel how she could feel it.

"I want… you inside me." A gasp broke her off midsentence as his fingers worked on her bead of pleasure. He squeezed, a reaction he wasn't even aware of before Ashley's free hand dug into his shoulder. Guided by primitive instinct, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him so that she was straddling his waist now.

Fingers slipping from her inside, Thomas grasped her hips with both hands and started moving upwards, caressing and worshipping her tanned skin every inch of the way to her soft, firm mounds. Each's center was hard, like rubber under his searching fingers.

"Stop tea-" when he pinched, ever so gently and lovingly, the nipple, she gasped and stopped her words; "-'sing me. God dammit, _now._"

A small part of his mind registered the blabbering she often started on when the pleasure overtook her brain. He loved it, and it only heightened his desire for her. She was still holding his hard shaft firmly, now more in control than he as she stroked it, sliding it along her opening. The panties were gone. When had they gone, had he done that? Each time she touched him along her opening, the sensations of her softness and warmth made his brain stutter.

"I'm not the one holding my-" he managed to argue in a husky, throaty voice, as she seemed to have teased him enough, and slid down around him. Gods. _Gods!_

She was wet, warm and tight around him, her opening closing around his member like she had no intention of ever letting him go.

And he wouldn't have minded that in the least. Letting go of her breasts, both his hands sought her hips, holding on to her waist as she started rocking. She rode his member, a steady rhythm that increased in pace with the pleasure it brought them both.

Being inside her, with her body closed around him, the weight of her on his body, her skin on his. There was nothing in the galaxy that could compare to that. It was intoxicating, so ecstatic that it hurt to hold back, and every time Ashley moved, every time she made him go deeper, was impossibly orgasmic in its pleasure.

Ashley pressed down on him, leaned forward and met his mouth with hers. Thomas' eyes widened slightly at the new position, but obliged happily and kissed her, tongues dancing as he thrust deeper inside her, pressing his hips up to meet hers. As they made love to each other.

"I'm c- coming- coming, co- coming." She exclaimed in a hoarse, husky cry that seemed depleted of strength to hold herself back. Thomas moved his arms from her hips to her back, holding her body against his as they were joined in their ecstasy.

With a cry of pleasure, Ashley let go. She dug her nails into his shoulders and warm fluids started seeping from her opening, greasing and slicking the entrance for him to move. Thomas panted, an overwhelmed grin spreading across his face. This was the first time she had finished before him, small thing as it might be, it brought him joy.

Wordlessly, because his mind was unable to sum up a reply, he continued trusting inside her, coming closer and closer to the point where he knew he'd be unable to contain himself within her. Each thrust, as well as the rocking movement Ashley still made on his member as she rode it more slowly than before, brought him closer. Closer to the abyssal edge of the orgasmic release.

Pressing her down against him still, Thomas met Ashley's mouth and tongue as she came at him, engaging her in a dance of loving passion as she heightened his lust and brought him closer still with the tip of her tongue going around his, her hands demanding his body in return.

With a groan, tears forming in his eyes, he let go inside her.

* * *

March 8th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Hangar D-5, Military sector

15:29

"Come…again?" Tequila stared at Shepard as the redhead, clad in uniform, read aloud from the hovering data-files from her Omnitool.

"Alliance Intelligence picked up signs of a major confrontation over the planet Alchera." Shepard repeated, looking over the assembled crew. Apart from Ashley, who seemed a bit more pale than usual, the entire team was looking at her with rapt attention. John-117 included, though he refused to remove his helmet still.

Thomas was torn between wanting to order the man to show his bloody face, and staring at Jane as he processed the information she had just given them.

"Who?" Hillary asked.

"One group was classified as a fleet of unaffiliated mercenaries, most likely Eclipse from the wreckage of an Asari cruiser spotted by Spy-Sat's. The other remains unknown, though the wreckages of several Alliance-made ships were recognized. 3rd Scouting Flotilla already skimmed through the wrecks in space, but lacked the personnel to go planetside." The Captain looked over them, her eyes seemingly lingering extra long on those who had been on the team from day one; "Alliance Command has recommended us to check out the scene for the ground-side battle."

"You're kidding." Jane's green eyes shot lightning as they snapped to Thomas, who was trying very hard _not_ to stare at her as if she was to blame for the mission.

"No, I am not kidding, Service Chief." The use of his rank instead of name seemed to imply that she too was determined not to be undermined by the newcomer in green; "I understand not wanting to return to that system, especially because of what or who might still be lurking there, but orders are orders."

"…yes, ma'am."

"117?" Jane snapped, causing the crew to look between her and the immovable giant of a man; "This will be your first field-mission with this team. I expect you to follow orders, regardless if the Admiral sees you as something special, and regardless if you used to outrank half the people here. You are on _my_ team now, so that means I _own_ your ass. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am." The soldier replied with a tone like he was answering whether or not he'd seen the latest game in TV. Thomas smiled a little at Jane's attitude. _So fucking professional. Glad to see Jane's not giving him special treatment._

"Good." She turned to the rest of the team; "Williams, you look like shit. Something to report?"

"Just… think I ate something bad, ma'am." Ashley replied. Thomas furrowed his brows in worry, seeing her like that. She'd been sick since yesterday's morning… had the pie been bad? Crap, he'd used bad meat, hadn't he? "It'll pass."

"Hope so. This isn't a combat-mission, but I still don't want to risk you if you're not in shape." Jane said, then moved on before Ashley could reply. Thomas could see his girlfriend had something in mind to say, but had held back. Small alarm-clocks went off in the back of his mind, but he blocked them out, hoping and believing that Ashley knew what she was doing and wouldn't go on missions while sick; "Now where the hell is Roku?"

"Working with Admiral Fisher." Hillary said, causing a few eyes to fall on her; "What? I got a text from the old lady telling me to tell you."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Thomas asked her. Hillary shrugged. Then again, why _should_ Roku had told him? They hadn't had practice for some days now, and it wasn't like the Aspect answered to him in any way.

"So is he on the mission?" Jane asked tiredly.

"Don't know. Just know he's working with the old dame."

"Figures." Jane pinched the top of her nose; "Regardless of whether or not he's coming, we're going to investigate the planet-side battlefield and figure out who was fighting who and for what."

"So, we're not going on a mission with your patron-god?" Cortana asked as she appeared on 117's palm. She looked a little disappointed.

"Not if he doesn't show up we're not." Thomas muttered under his breath. He didn't like the 'Chief' much, but he didn't really mind Cortana. Despite being an artificial intelligence, she had more of a personality than the guy she seemed to be stored on.

"That will come." Jane said, probably not having noticed Thomas' comment; "He's one of the regulars on this team, but seeing as he's mostly engaged with either spiritual or combat-related matters, we might not need him here. You, on the other hand, will probably come in handy."

"Me?" Cortana seemed surprised, and 117 tilted his helmet ever so slightly in what was probably him processing the request.

"Being an AI, and a seemingly highly advanced one at that, you can provide us with an on-site base of information and data. Be our… MCCS, if you will." The captain clarified. Thomas tried remembering what MCCS was, as he was pretty sure the Home guard had used the term as well.

Right. MCCS, Mobile Command and Comms Site.

"Of course." Cortana nodded; "Anything to help."

"Good." Jane looked over the rest of the team again, picking her Bulwark-helmet up from the table; "We'll catch a ride with the 3rd flotilla when they leave station in two hours." She put on the helmet, adorned with the red stripe of the N7 down the front; "I suggest you spend the time gearing up and getting something to eat. Also, you will note upon retrieving your armor that a new color-scheme has been applied, as per the official formation of this task-force. Questions?"

"A new color-scheme, ma'am?" Tequila asked.

"Brass decided a coherent unit can't have different colors. Anything else?"

No one said anything.

"Good. Dismissed."

Thomas wasn't feeling hungry, so when he saw Ashley steering towards the armory where their gear was stored, he followed her, as did Boss, who was unarmored in the sense that he wasn't wearing his helmet, Tequila, Nicolai and Hillary. Adrian seemed to linger a bit with the green giant, then followed as well.

"Hey, you feeling okay?" Thomas asked as he reached Ashley at the lockers.

"I'm fine." She brushed him off and pulled the locker open with a bit less finesse than usual. Thomas felt a pit tighten in his abdomen at the tone, unusually dismissive as it was.

"Are you sure? You seemed…" he trailed off at the sideways glance she shot him; "Right, right. Sorry I worried."

Jeez. Maybe it was that time of month. Ashley just hadn't showcased the whole pms-rage thing before, so it took him a bit by surprise. _Women… first they give you the best night of your life, then they freeze you with a stare._

"I…it's nothing, 'kay?" she sighed as she picked her own helmet, a dark green slide-visor added to its front; "we can talk later, okay?"

"Okay." He nodded hesitantly.

"I'm fine." She pressed again. Thomas decided not to argue.

Staying close to her regardless, he opened his own locker and pulled out the chest-plate first. The piece of armor, made from some sort of alloy of carbon and steel, was heavy and bulky to handle. In a way, it was a comforting familiarity. When he turned it over, he saw the colors had remained the same, a dark green going down the center in a thick stripe, as well as both pauldrons having the heavy, marshy color as his torso.

Odd. Hadn't Jane said they'd be getting new color-schemes?

"The fuck? Why the fuck am I green?" Hillary, being the only person he knew to swear more than the old Jack, was the first to state a reason. Thomas looked to the private, and saw her heft her own set of armor from the locker. It still carried the same pattern as her hydra-colored suit had previously, now it was just green instead of a dark pink.

"Hey, what happened to my blue colors?" Nikolai muttered, tapping on the now green pattern going in thick, angular stripes down the side of his armor.

"Ha, I kept mine." Tequila mused with a victorious expression.

"Why the fuck didn't they change your colors too?" Hillary pointed at Boss, who was now holding his still very much orange-themed helmet. The commando offered her the smallest of smirks, to which the private just threw one of her boots at him. He caught it easily and tossed it back, like a ball to a child.

"Like Scorch, I am not technically part of the Alliance military." He replied, securing the helmet over his head. His voice came out filtered; "Being such, Alliance Command had no reason to change my colors."

"Fucker…"

"Hey, I didn't even get to decorate my armor before this." Adrian chuckled as he pulled a colorless chest-piece with dark green pauldrons out; "Free service. Nice."

"I hate you all." Hillary muttered, pulling the rest of her armor from the locker.

* * *

**Fact of the day learned: Hillary doesn't like the color green. **

**To give the best picture of the new color-scheme, imagine the phase-I armor pattern of the 41st Elite Corps (might have to google it) then apply the pattern alone to the phase-II variant. Ashley's slide-visor is akin to the optics seen worn by many of the clone-commanders, Bly included. **

**Oh yeah, and ehm. Lemon-warning...maybe I should have put that in the start? yes? no? okay :)**


	23. Alchera

**Okay, so time for a return to Alchera. I'd like to mention that I have no intention of bashing the MC, only that he is socially impaired from his training, and thus has some issues socializing with others. At the same time, the people here have never been awed by his deeds, meaning he'll have to earn it.**

* * *

**Alchera**

* * *

SSV Sleipnir, Amada system

05:21

The ship they were being freighted on, a five-hundred meter cruiser, was the flagship of the 3rd flotilla. It was also the biggest ship in the group, and had a distinctive spearhead-shape. Much like every other Alliance cruiser Thomas had ever seen, its spine was dedicated to the railgun running its length. What set it apart though, were the fourteen massive quad-cannons making up both sides of the ship. Each looked like the Normandy could have rested on them, easily even at that.

He had been woken up by the intercom proclaiming they had reached their destination, the center of the Amada system. Gods, was that a message he could have done without. He hadn't even gotten that much sleep, as the loud sound of someone retching in the bathroom had woken him up.

"Alright people, hustle up." Jane ordered, already in her armor as she had stepped into the communal sleeping quarters. Her voice was made synthetic by the filters in her helmet. One could have been forgiven for thinking 'Quarian' until you spotted Jane. In her bulky, N7-striped Bulwark-armor, with a bandolier of grenades across her chest, she looked more like a Krogan on a diet. Could probably stop one dead in its tracks too.

Jumping from his cot, Thomas didn't as much as bother arguing with the captain. There really was no point, regardless of how much he loathed being anywhere less than ten light-years from the Amada system. Instead, he glanced at Ashley as she stepped from her cot, a bit hesitantly, but determined. If he didn't know better, he'd have been startled that she was sick, seeing how she definitely downplayed it to the best of her ability. But he knew her, could see the signs that she was physically not well.

So why did she keep insisting on being 'fine' and that 'it would pass'?

Maybe, there was something she didn't want to tell him… Stupid as the notion was. She herself had drilled it into him that relationships were built on being able to share everything with each other. He knew she was tough, Gods knew she was tougher than him by far, but no one were immune to… to whatever was wrong with her.

Still… he hoped she would at least tell _him_ if it was something serious. Not being told, especially when it was about her health, was enough to give him stress and a mounting cardiac arrest. It was also seriously annoying how she suddenly seemed to her damned best to avoid conversations with him.

Somehow, he ended up starring at his helmet's visor. There was something accusing about the way his own face-safe-behind-steel surface was looking back at him. Damn, was even his own stuff now giving him the cold shoulder?

He slipped it on, watching with lessened enthusiasm as the displays lit up and connected to his armor's computers. Heat-meter for the heat sinks, shield and armor integrity bars and the quality of the surrounding air. His eyes went to Shepard when she stomped into the armory, every bit the image of lethality made human.

"Alright people, prep for landing. We'll go down with shuttles and secure the immediate area." The captain said, slipping her weapons into their respective places, twin heavy pistols on her hip.

"Shepard, if they've got shuttles, how come we're the ones going down there?" Tequila asked, holding her newly modified helmet under her arm, complete with antenna and bandolier across her chest. Shepard was silent for a long moment, looking over the team for just long enough that Thomas got a sinking feeling.

"You can't be serious…" Nikolai muttered, beating Thomas to the conclusion. Shepard just nodded, looking at those who had been there from the start, a sadly dwindling number;

"The battlefield is centered around the wreckage of the Normandy." She stated, causing a wave of revulsion to go through Thomas. To him, and the others presumably, the Normandy should be treated like an honorable deceased. _Not_ treated like a battlefield or place of loot. _If someone took the bodies…Fuck!_

"Fuck…_Fuck!" _he growled, clenching his fists. He looked up at Shepard, her face hidden behind her visor; "Let's get down there, captain."

"Glad to see you found some incentive." She nodded, looking away from the team and towards the shuttle bay of the Sleipnir; "Alright, get to the shuttle. Let's get this over with."

* * *

Amada system

Surface of Alchera, Normandy wreck site

07:11

The surface of Alchera. Hard, cold and devoid of oxygen, forcing one to remain sealed away behind a mask. Overall, it was not a place Thomas enjoyed, or had ever looked forward to visiting. The ground was packed with ice and stone, the air filled with falling snow through a low atmosphere, forming odd and alien patterns in the crystals.

And it was strewn with corpses too.

"This is…I don't know…" Tequila muttered, obviously in aghast disbelief at the sight before them. Mechs, humans, Turians, Salarians and Asari littered the ground. Every single corpse bore the same black uniform, not betraying the allegiance of their enemy. The mechs though, held multiple colors.

"There's got to be hundreds here…Shit, just why?" Nikolai breathed heavily through his helmet's filters. His weapons were holstered, leaving his hands hanging limply by his side. Thomas was glad his friend had spoken. He didn't know what to say himself, or even if he was capable of speech.

"Move it people." Shepard broke in through the sense of dismay that had settled over them; "Scans revealed the heaviest concentration of bodies to be over here. Whatever they fought over, that's where the center is."

117 was immediately off, likely told by Cortana where the site was even before Jane had known. Thomas decided he'd try to swallow the unease he felt about the man, and just focus on the mission. As Shepard had said, the sooner they got this done with, the better.

"Drop pods?" 117 asked aloud as they passed by what looked like boxy, metallic acorns, sticking out of the ground. Thomas stopped to look at them, wondering what they were, if not drop pods.

"Alliance military uses them for orbital insertions. Special forces only." Shepard explained.

"Orbital Drop Shock Troopers?" the reply, or question, made the captain stop and look at the hulking soldier.

"…yes. How did you know?"

"The UNSC makes use of them as well." 117 explained; "The name is similar."

"Figures." Tequila muttered under her breath as she passed Thomas by; "ODST's got the highest casualties of almost any unit you'd come across."

"Seriously, how do you know all this stuff?" While Nikolai flanked the Hispanic on the other side, Thomas made sure Ashley was in his sights at all time.

"I don't spend my shore leaves pumping or slouching on the couch."

"That's…not really an answer, Teresa." He muttered as he made sure _not_ to step on a very dead Salarian. So _that_ was what Salarian kidney looked liked. Hadn't Wrex mentioned he liked that raw, back at the sushi-shop? The sight of frozen innards really didn't touch him much, something that might not be the best of signs these days.

"It is, if you spend time learning about the military and its functions." 117 replied stoically, looking like he offered a glance at the equally heavily, though not as tall, soldier. In armor, Nikolai really was the only one other than Jane who might haul around the same weight as the former Master Chief. Current. He'd forgot which, didn't matter now.

"…Right." The heavily armed soldier shrugged, likely deciding any argument stacked against him wasn't worth pursuing. Thomas watched him briefly as his friend traced an armored gauntlet along the crumbled hull of a broken mech, stopping short of touching the gore-splattered against the frame of armored, shattered glass that _had been_ the cockpit. Or whatever it was called.

They walked in silence, traversing the wrecked battlefield of death and rust and ice, treating the scattered debris of the Normandy with reverence. To Thomas, there was something almost religious, and at the same time supernatural about seeing the place he had once called home, spread across miles and miles of ice.

In the beginning, there was just the odd piece of metal sticking out the ice, scorched from the orbital fall. Then, as they came closer to the center, more and more, bigger and bigger pieces of the Normandy began to emerge on their path. Thomas stopped, taking several moments to process what he was looking at.

It was miraculous, really, that it had survived the fall, but at the same time not really surprising. Still, he blinked several times before his mind caught up with his eyes. The mattress from the Normandy's gym was speared on a stalactite of ice, most of it burned and melted to a slab of rubber, but "intact" nonetheless.

There was a bit of sadness, melancholic even, at seeing it like that. No one else seemed to notice it though, and so he sighed, pulling in pressurized oxygen from his armor's back, and walked on. The mattress, like the rest of the Normandy's corpse, was in the past. It was his foundation, but he would never again call it home. Cerberus had shown their true colors when they held Jenny. There was no way they would bother with John, a Quarian.

As he walked on, something shining and glinting in the snow, metallic, caught his eye. No one else paid it heed, so he knelt down in the ice and fished something of metal from a very burnt, destroyed, dead body. It was impossible to tell anything more than that it had either been human or Asari, skin burnt from the charred flesh. But the glint, it was a scorched dog-tag.

_Alexi._

_Robert Piotr._

_123-45-6789_

_A NEG_

_Christian Orthodox._

The two pieces of metal dangled in a more or less ruined chain, links molten into lumps, yet still flexible enough to dangle. Thomas looked at the dog-tags, then at the corpse. He hadn't known the man, Robert, hadn't even known half the people on the Normandy. Still…_God be with you._

"Knew him?" a filtered voice asked above him; "Or… her, I guess?"

He looked up, seeing Hillary's visor look down at him. He'd thought she was further ahead, thought that _everyone_ was further ahead, really. Also, he hadn't expected her to pay attention to what _he_ was doing. He stood, keeping the molten chain in a solid grip.

"No." he admitted quietly, looking down at the charred body; "there were a lot of people on the Normandy I never got to know. Some I spoke to, maybe once…" he looked at her; "Does that count as knowing them?"

"Dunno." She shrugged, voice holding _something_; "Come on, let's catch up with the others."

Thomas looked ahead, realizing that the rest of the group had stopped, far ahead, looking at something he couldn't see. Nodding, he started walking when something struck him;

"Wait… why did _you_ wait?"

Hillary seemed uncomfortable at the question, even through the visor hiding her face, it was still evident enough for him to see. She looked at the group ahead, at least he assumed she was. Couldn't see her eyes.

"All you guys, you, Ashley, Shepard…the Normandy was your thing. I didn't even spend a week on it before Saren was dead, and…" she sighed audibly through the methane-filled air; "I don't know, just…"

"What?"

"Always felt a bit…" She muttered, shaking her head; "Fuck it. Come on, let's get a move on before someone starts gossiping."

She immediately started walking, leaving Thomas to look at her for a moment before following, making sure not to miss anything that could be a deceased member of the crew. The dog-tags still dangling from his hand was evidence enough that a search was warranted.

The memories of the Alchera mission, with Shepard alone in the cold, finding the dog-tags of her deceased colleagues, played through his mind. He tried repressing it, especially because the landscape was _nothing_ like what Hudson had obviously seen, but the ugly fact was that he believed he knew rather well now what _exactly_ Jane would have felt if she had been here alone. Fel, who was to say she _wasn't_ feeling those things right now?

The group, he saw as he approached, was gathered around something. Shepard was kneeling in the snow and ice, taking something from the ground. Pushing through the crowd, Thomas almost blacked out when he realized what was in the captain's hands.

Jane, no longer as much the warrior Shepard, as a shaking human being, was cradling a broken, Quarian facemask in her huge gauntlets, treating it with care like it was a fragile bird. She was kneeling next to an impression of a humanoid being left in the packed snow. It wasn't possible to _see_ what the being had been, but no one needed to see it to know.

John's body had been there.

_Had_ been there.

Now it was gone.

* * *

Orbit over Alchera

Alliance Battlecruiser "Sleipnir"

08:55

"Captain, unknown contact just dropped out of FTL." One of the ensigns, a Quarian, called from her post. The Captain, sixty-five year old Wulf Dalas, tuned to regard her over the edge of his hovering data files.

"Bring it up on display." He said, more curious than alert. The Spacelane Patrols had been suffering casualties from unknown attackers recently, perchance this was once such?

Instead of a reply, the displays in front of him changed into the shape and visage of a cancerous stone-pillar. In truth though, it looked more like the rock was _growing_ on the outside of the ship, maybe as a form of armor? Curious.

"Open up comms to the ship, let them know we're here on Alliance business." Most likely, this was one of T'loak's ships, the Queen of Omega. Hopefully, her men would back off once they knew who the flotilla was.

"Unknown vessel not responding to communication."

Damn. Okay, if Aria wanted to play hardball, then who was he, Wulf Dalas, captain of the 580 meter long battlecruiser 'SSV Sleipnir' to deny them that chance?

It could also be seen as community service.

"Fine by me. Contact all vessels, power up guns, shields and aim whatever weapons we have at those sad fucks." He leant back as his crew went into action; "Might as well do something interesting while the A-team have all the fun down there anyway."

The light in the CIC changed, becoming a dull red as the ship went into battle stations. Drones were powered up, guns turned around to face the newcomer, spinal-cannon charged and shields turned on. Dalas nodded, satisfied with the reports coming in from the rest of his small flotilla, ten ships, of which his was the only battlecruiser, two regular Genève-class Cruisers and seven heavy frigates, Quarian design.

All in all, he didn't feel too worried about facing a single Terminus cruiser, even if the design suggested a new player on the stage. It wasn't Batarian, or Turian, he could see that much. Maybe, an old Krogan cruiser? Truth be told, those _could_ still be found here and there, owned by the random crime-lord and such.

"Status on the SPB?" he asked, looking at the display for their newest, experimental weapon.

"Charging. Estimate at least five more minutes until ready."

"Okay, let's see if we can't drag this out for that amount of time." There was a bit of smirk on Dalas' lips; "we need to field-test it anyway. Might as well do it now. Have you alerted the team on the planet?"

"Yes sir." Dalas really couldn't tell if she was looking at him when she replied. Face-mask and all that. Still, the Quarians had brought new technology, especially in the field of electronic warfare, to the table when they joined. That was pretty much a given, considering how they had been forced to outsmart the geth, not outfight them.

A war of attrition was difficult when a single shot could kill you anywhere on the body.

"Status on the unknown cruiser?"

"Five thousand kilometers and closing."

"How fast?"

"Estimated velocity, two-hundred kilometers a second." There was a short pause; "powerful energy-levels detected. Assuming the vessel is charging its main weapon."

"Which seems to be? Chemical, Eezo-accelerated? Plasma? Missiles?" the Sleipnir itself had a single pair of Arbalest mk. Two missile-launchers. Being a battlecruiser of the experimental 'Hurricane' line, all GARDIAN-batteries had been stripped in favor of devoting immense amounts of power to the prototype 'SPB' cannon situated on the belly of the warship.

"Unknown."

"You know that word doesn't exist in naval warfare, ensign."

"Still, sir, we can't get a solid read on it." There was insecurity in the woman's voice now; "But, by that we can also rule out Mass Effect weaponry."

"Curious." Dalas tapped a finger to his lower lip; "How long till we're in targeting range?"

"Ten seconds."

"Alright people, I want this done by the book." Dalas stood in his place, assuming the familiar position of complete authority; "as soon as we're in range, open fire with everything that can reach. Save the Quads and the SPB for when we get to within two-hundred clicks. I want the frigates to circumvent them and attack the rear, cruisers stay with the Sleipnir."

"Five seconds."

"Brace for hard contact."

"two seconds!" despite having spent all their lives in the galaxy's largest fleet, very few Quarians had ever actually _seen_ combat. The edge of panic to the ensigns' voice was most likely due to this being her first battle.

Well, at least it would be an easy one.

"Targeting range confirmed!"

"Fire at will, ladies." Wulf ordered, silently wondering what idiot captain would be willing to steer his lone cruiser towards a whole flotilla of Alliance warships.

His thoughts were distracted as the exterior displays showed ten, then twenty ferrous-titanium slugs being shot towards the approaching ship. The 3rd Scouting flotilla was experimental in _two_ ways. One, they were the first to field-test the SPB-cannon. And two, they had all been equipped with far more extensive heat sinks for the main guns. While this meant sacrificing a lot of internal space now taken up by the huge tanks, it also meant the main guns could fire off _two_ volleys before having to cool for ten seconds.

Dalas still had dreams of seeing the 'Goliath'-class ship churn out shots with only two seconds between from its main guns.

The unknown cruiser kept advancing. One second passed from the shots were fired and until they impacted on the shields of the vessel. A brilliant, gold shield flared to life, shattering the slugs. The second volley was stopped likewise, causing Dalas to scratch his chin with some pondering.

"Load the phased plasma-shells into the Quads. Keep firing the main guns, and make sure to keep your shields u-" Dalas stopped talking when it became evident that the enemy cruiser was now in range as well.

A brilliant, yet sickly golden beam shot out from its center, lancing through space without the delay of projectiles. Holy. Shit. Dalas tried not to wince as it speared the rear end of another cruiser, the SSV… something. He couldn't identify it immediately, and he didn't have the time.

"Well I'll be… Power up the Cyclonics, people, we're dealing with a particle-weapon here."

The fact that _no one_ but the Alliance was supposed to have even started looking into particle-weapon yet, didn't even cross his mind. He just knew what they were supposed to look like, and a solid stream of light, which left an _impact_, had to be just that.

"Status on the SPB?" he asked, watching as his frigates started flanking the enemy cruiser. They kept out of its line of fire, and were already pounding it from afar while closing in. Most of them were still crewed solely by Quarians, seeing how they were most familiar with the workings of their own ships. That they had so quickly grasped the _human_ ships, Dalas attributed to their adaptability.

"Charging. Two minutes."

"Distance?"

"Five hundred kilometers. Cruiser slowing down to a five hundred meters a second."

"Good. Focus shields on starboard and take us right of the cruiser." The rule when facing lasers was to stay mobile. He assumed the same would be true for Particle-weapons; "when in range, tilt us to face top-side towards them, the open fire with all our batteries."

While definitely _not_ something in the naval handbook, this maneuver had been extensively used in the first contact war, when human ships had been using more turrets than the Turians, and Dresher, Cologne and Petrovsky among others had used this to its full advantage.

"Sir, the SSV Kiev just lost four lower decks. Engine room compromised and venting atmosphere in the SSV Tokyo."

"Some _good_ news, please?"

"In range for turrets." Gunnery replied. Good, then what was there to wait for?

"Stations, tilt us eighty-seven degrees towards the left, then open fire with all guns." Silently, Dalas had been saddened the first time he had been in a naval battle in space. He had always had the childish idea of _hearing_ the guns go off. Of course, being without air, there was no sound. Still, pretty colors made up for a bit of it.

Remaining standing, Wulf Dalas swiped up an external display, showing him the sixteen 425mm Quad-barreled turrets just as they fired in unison. It was almost beautiful, how he could see the fiery explosions spread in their own small bubbles of released oxygen from the explosions that sent them flying.

Dozens of heavy shells, each holding a bubble of phased plasma within their own magnetic containers, soared towards the cruiser, even as it itself fired again, spearing the final other cruiser, the Tokyo, through the front. At first, the beam washed over the cyclonic barriers, for all of five seconds, then dissolved the purple barrier. The beam itself vanished as well, only to be renewed a moment later, sending the particle-beam through the gun-barrel of the Tokyo.

The result was a brilliant explosion as the five-hundred meter cruiser crumbled beneath a series of detonations along its spine. Damn. Those fucks were crack shots if they could hit _that_ small a target. Dalas was now Palle alone in the world. Curious.

"Status on the frigates?"

"Six frigates remain." The same ensign as before replied; "They have encountered enemy fighter-drones and are currently struggling to keep themselves alive."

"Figures." Dalas sighed. People sometimes said he was too cynical, or just unable to grasp the seriousness of what was going on. Well, _he_ was a captain, and those people were usually a few ranks beneath him; "Status on the SPB?"

"Charging. Ten seconds."

"Good work." He said, watching as the massive cruiser was turning to keep up with them. Heh. Lumbering fuck couldn't keep up with faster enemies. That was useful to know. While the rocky ship turned, Dalas' own guns pounded it relentlessly, delivering topside after topside salvo, making sure to stay within the larger vessels turning-rate. They still hadn't gotten through its shield, but, as a Quarian had shared with him on shore-leave, they had gotten used to killing the hulking geth with bug-bites.

In short, he just had to keep firing.

"Deploy all drones to assist frigates." He said to Technical; "It's about time we free them up."

"Yes sir." The man, looking somewhere in his forties, replied, hands dancing over the controls; "Hammerheads released."

The Hammerhead drones, a Quarian invention, were ten meter fighter-drones, capable of taking down heavy frigates with swarm-tactics. Ideally though, they were meant to handle the dancing geth-drones theorized to be the greatest annoyance to the Migrant Fleet. Each Hammerhead was equipped with a pair of 10mm gatlings located at the tip of each wing, as well as a single EMP-warhead capable of dealing severe blows to enemy shields.

And right now, they engaged Oculi in silent dogfights in-between the firing frigates of the Alliance. Dalas decided stations could handle the drones themselves, and turned to regard the same ensign from before;

"Status on the SPB?"

"Ready, sir." She replied; "Gunnery is surfacing it as we speak."

"Good." He turned to the rest of the CIC; "Alright people, turn us belly-first towards that thing. Focus shields on our exposed side and keep the turrets firing at targets of opportunity. When ready, Gunnery has my permission to fire the PSB."

The Sleipnir, though by being a battlecruiser it was larger and slower than most cruisers, it had the advantage over the enemy here, and could move and turn faster than the lumbering hulk of the ugly ship. Really, _who_ slapped _rocks_ on their ship?

"SPB ready." A short pause from someone in CIC; "Firing."

Since Dalas was looking at the displays for the SPB, the Superheated Plasma Beam, he was forced to shield his eyes from the violent, green pulse as a beam of ionized gas, superheated and hosed through a magnetic bottle-hole from its very own, dedicated fission-plant, was released from its containment.

The beam itself lasted less than two seconds, but its effect was evident. When it hit the enemy's shield, it spent exactly ten microseconds washing over and splashing against the golden shields. Then those shields broke, sparking to death as the beam continued, hitting a purple barrier behind the shield. That, it spent an entire second splashing against before that barrier too, broke, and the plasma spent its remaining second carving into the steel and stone of the cruiser like a heat-knife through butter.

The saddest part was, Dalas spent those two seconds shielding his eyes, and thus didn't see the plasma beam. He _did_, however, see the detonations within the massive cruiser, as the core of whatever weapon it had, detonated and blew the vessel apart.

Dalas sighed, sinking into his chair with a smirk on his face. He had lost _four_ ships, hundreds of good men and women, but he had _won_.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" he looked back at the Quarian.

"We should warn the ground-side team." She said; "parts of the cruiser were blown in the direction of the planet."

It took a moment for his mind to finish loading, and his eyes to widen in realization.

"Oh…Shit." Palming his face, Wulf Dalas stood; "Contact them immediately, I want them off the surface if the debris hit their position."

"Yes sir."

* * *

Galactic Republic

Coruscant, Republic Space.

Jedi Temple, Main stairs.

When Kasumi had been told to come to the temple, in a holographic message even, she had expected it to be Scarface who wanted to either apologize for his behavior, or complain that Kasumi had somehow had something to do with either the attack or Ahsoka's lack of determination in the face of unjust charges. Or, hell, maybe he would have complained about Kasumi not having dragged the mastermind up the temple-stairs herself.

Because she could _totally_ drag another person up those stairs.

Instead, she'd found the leprechaun waiting for her. Master Yoda, and what a name that was for a small guy like him, had invited her for what seemed to pass for tea, sitting on soft, round chairs in a dimmed room. He'd talked to her, and Kami, she couldn't get over how weird his speech was, about how best to help Ahsoka, and how to eventually come to terms with the fact that she might be guilty.

That had been when he lost his adorable-leprechaun-ness and become something less adorable. Kasumi hadn't been able to stop the frown that had no doubt marred her expression when she had tried getting more out of Yoda than 'trust in the force, you must. Not always clear it is, who is behind the works, but courage you must have, for the trials ahead.' Because that had been _so_ informative.

So instead she had thanked him for the tea, gotten up and left the room. It had been when she walked towards the main entrance, smiling sweetly to the many younglings, especially the one called a 'Wookie', because he looked completely huggable, that she had found something more substantial.

More specifically, she had found a young woman with khaki skin and freckles, dressed in the typical attire of padawans, as well as a velvet hood of some dark fabric covering her hair. In short, she was dressed much like Kasumi would prefer to be.

"Kasumi Goto, right?" the girl, and she couldn't be much older than Ahsoka, so somewhere around the sixteen, maybe? She seemed friendly enough.

"That's me." She replied, smiling at the padawan.

"Barris Offee, Jedi padawan under Master Unduli." Barris bowed her head slightly in greeting. She was quite beautiful too, up close. In her own way, Kasumi could appreciate what made aliens attractive, and the aura Offee radiated made her pleasant to the eyes. Gender notwithstanding; "I heard you're trying to help Ahsoka?"

"Yeah." Kasumi admitted; "Not going so well."

Truth be told, she hadn't gotten anywhere near getting Ahsoka released since she had last visited the girl, with promised blankets and pillows, the day after she had been there the first time. Now, more than a week had passed, and she had been running from Herodes to Pilatus for help.

Nothing had been found though, which had left her more than a little grumpy.

"Oh…" Barris seemed downtrodden at the news; "Ahsoka is my friend, one of few I've managed to make here in the temple. I thought, maybe I could help you?"

"Me? I mean, you?" Kasumi hadn't expected to find help so soon, and definitely not without having asked the person in question for it; "I mean, yes, I would love some help."

So far, the only real support had been from Scarface (in the meaning that he hadn't opposed her investigations, but hadn't allowed her to interfere with Republic investigations either), Obi-Wan, mostly in the form of moral support and assurances that all would be well, and from the few clones she had had meetings with on top of it all.

Bly had been adamant that 'Ahsoka was too responsible and possessed none of the malice needed to kill innocents', while Rex, the captain serving with Ahsoka, had claimed that she was being framed, as he had complete and utter faith in her.

He had also apologized for stunning Kasumi on the Resolute, something Kasumi wouldn't have remembered him for if he hadn't said it himself.

So that left her with Barris as the first to have offered any actual help.

"Gree told me you have been asking the clones for their insight on this." Barris said as they sat down on the stairs, just outside the entrance; "Very wise. I mean, seeing how most of the dead were clones, they might know if Ahsoka held grudges. I really cannot imagine her doing so, though."

"Gree?" Kasumi looked through her memory (thank you Greybox!) and remembered a meeting with a specific clone; "Ah right. Stern guy, red mohawks?"

"Mo-hawks?" Barris was obviously not familiar with the word.

"Ah, ehm… red stripes of hair down the middle of his head." Kasumi explained. Barris nodded in newfound understanding; "So, what can we do?"

"I'm looking into who made the bombs and where they came from." Barris said, her eyes gaining a look of wisdom far beyond her years; "I haven't gotten anything concrete yet, but I know it wasn't from anywhere near the temple, and wasn't anyone within the temple itself."

"How can you be so sure?" Kasumi asked, tilting her head a bit; "About the temple-part I mean? Ahsoka has no enemies?"

"You don't fully understand the Jedi way, Kasumi." Barris didn't sound the least bit patronizing; "the Jedi way is to keep the peace, preserve life and safeguard the innocent."

"I thought the Jedi were fighting a war."

"Yes, we are…" something regretful seeped into her voice; "Regardless, no Jedi could have done this. In the war, we fight droids to save clones. Even fighting, it is _rare_ that a Jedi ever has to kill. And no one would kill the clones fighting with us."

"Ah. Right." She nodded, getting the padawan's point. Barris stood, brushing invisible dust from her skirts; "You going?"

"Yes, I only had a short time to meet you, I'm afraid." Barris apologized; "I have to return to my duties, but I will continue looking into the bombs. I'll let you know if I find anything."

"That'd be awesome, thanks." Kasumi smiled, feeling immensely grateful not to be in this alone. She watched Barris leave, glad to have found a partner-in-crime, as Scarface would no doubt see it. She sighed to herself and activated her Omnitool.

"_This is Fox. Ambassador, how'd it go?" _Bodyguard-Fox asked. Her escorts had been gradually less and less formal with her, the more they realized that she preferred buddy-communication over professional talk.

"Better than I feared, worse than I hoped." She said; "the Jedi wouldn't offer more than moral support, but one of Ahsoka's friends is on to something about the bombs. She'll keep in touch. You guys mind bringing the car up, I'm going to visit Ahsoka with the good news."

"_Right away, ma'am."_ Fox ended the call. Even as Kasumi walked down the stairs, she saw the new car wait for her at the bottom. Fox was nothing if not efficient, and Kasumi had been growing increasingly fond of her escort buddies. They had an innocence about them that war had been unable to wipe away.

"Ambassador, who did you say agreed to help?" Slammer asked as she got in. Fully armed, he took the seat next to her, leaving Blast to sit next to Fox. There had been four men in their squad once, when she had first met them, but the forth guy, Hotshot, had been killed in action between the first meeting, and their assignment as her escorts.

"Padawan Offee. She's a friend of Ahsoka's." Kasumi said as they lifted off.

"Offee. She's with General Unduli and Commander Gree, last I heard." Blast said, looking back from his seat; "Good leader, that girl. Cares about her men, more than most Jedi do, from what I heard."

"Ever served with her?" Kasumi asked. It would be nice to know more about Barris. And she didn't feel like she could ask the girl how much she had been involved in the war. Pointedly not when the war had nothing to do with the bombings.

"No." Fox answered for Blast; "We've been serving with Skywalker since we were shinies."

"Shinies?" Kasumi asked, leaning forward between the two front seats.

"New clones."

"Ah." She leaned back again, and the car became uncharacteristically silent as they flew through the Coruscant night. Kasumi rested her forehead against the window, looking at the traffic around them as they ran like colorful ribbons in the air; "Fox?"

"Yes?"

"You guys are the perfect soldiers, right?"

"That's the sales speech the Republic got, yes." He said, not taking his eyes off the road; "trained since we could walk, war is who we are and what we do."

"So… what happens to you guys when the war ends?" It had been on her mind for about as long as her pro-rights campaign had, only the replies she got tended to be so short and vague she couldn't draw a conclusion.

"…I don't know, to be honest." Fox said with a more solemn tone.

"Maybe we'll retire and live off the royalties from the vids?" Blast suggested jokingly, though he sounded hopeful.

"Regardless of what happens, right now our duty is to fight for the Republic, and let the senate sort out the rest." Fox said.

"I know this isn't the best time to mention it, but…" Kasumi paused a bit; "It really isn't your duty as much as your job."

"Ma'am?" the car swerved a bit. Right, Fox was a bit sensitive about the idea of there being something less noble than duty, tying them to the war. In her eyes, the ugly truth was that they were slaves, fighting for a Republic that didn't appreciate them, trained to kill from birth.

"Never mind. Just my civilian mindset speaking." She patted him on the shoulder. Underneath and ahead, she could see the enormous shape of the prison, illuminated with searchlights. It looked like a fortress.

"I'll set us down by the entrance." Fox said, briefly glancing back to her. Maybe for confirmation; "Will you be alright on your own in there, or should we accompany you inside, ma'am?"

Kasumi gave him, and the rest of the group, a smile. Really, sometimes they were almost like overprotective mothers. Overprotective mothers in armor and carrying plasma-weapons. Yep.

"I'll be fine, it's just Foxy and some bored guards. What, you think I'll be attacked or arrested?"

"Considering…" Blast started, but stopped when he apparently caught a _look_ from Fox. Quite the achievement, what with the helmets and all.

"Just give us a call if-" Fox started, but was himself stopped when the searchlights suddenly intensified, alarms started blaring and soldiers started running all over the place, seemingly from nowhere and everywhere at once.

"Guys? What's going on?" Kasumi was halfway out the car, looking at her obviously stunned escorts. They seemed torn between running off to find out the cause of the chaos, and remaining with her.

"Ambassador, you need to clear the scene!" a soldier in red, one of Fox's men, stated as he ran up to them. Behind him, gunships took off and patrols with alien dogs poured over the courtyard.

"What? Why, what's going on?"

"Prisoner Tano has escaped. She killed five guards and cut through the armored doors." The soldier replied, touching his comms while speaking; "We don't know where the Fek she got them from."

Kasumi felt a lot like when Thomas had spilled the beans to her, back then. Ahsoka had broken out? While that in itself wasn't _that_ impossible a thought, she had _killed_ the men guarding her? Kami no, that had… there _had_ to be a mistake in this somewhere.

"Ahsoka… killed them?" she asked with a small, trembling voice. The alien girl hadn't even been willing to kill _her_ on the Resolute, how could she have killed her own men? The guard didn't reply, having already run off.

"Tano murdered vode?" Blast exclaimed with a hiss of frustration; "Shabuir! What do we do?"

"Kasumi, we should get you out of here." Fox said, keeping his voice calm and low. The fact that he felt pressed to use her name, pretty well betrayed his anxiety of her being… what? In danger? Ahsoka would never hurt her, and neither would the soldiers… unless…

Unless they started assuming that Ahsoka's most frequent visitor had been the one to smuggle in the weapons. The guards, the dead ones most likely now, could have sworn upon having nears Kasumi promise to break Ahsoka out.

Oh doodle. This was bad.

"Right." She nodded, stepping back into the car. It took off the moment she closed the door, all escorts now holding their blasters at the ready. Kasumi didn't like the implications of that. Not one bit.

"If she's trying to escape, she would head for the underground." Slammer theorized; "I mean, all ships would be checked if they tried leaving now."

"Correct, so most likely she will need to…" Fox trailed off. Kasumi, as well as Slammer, leaned forward in her seat to see what had the man quiet. Up ahead, gunships were flying low over the pipelines stretching between the prison and the surrounding city.

"Are they…" her question answered itself when volleys of familiar blue flashes flew between the two gunships, raining down on the center pipeline between them. She couldn't see what exactly they were shooting at, bit felt she knew it well enough already. Thank God she was in her working clothes; "fly towards those gunships!"

"Ma'am, with all due respect, we can't interfere in a manhunt." Fox replied, keeping them on course; "And even _if_ we could, what would you do?"

"Leave that part to me, Foxy." She assured him; "Come on, be a peach and dive."

"…You could get in serious trouble for doing this, ma'am." Fox hesitated, fingers gripping tighter on the controls.

"Sweetie, I've been chased by the most powerful criminals in the Milky Way for years." She patted him on the arm; "Now, take us after that fugitive, I want to get to her before the coppers do something dumb"

"This is why I love escorting." Blast grinned with his voice.

"And the exact reason I prefer shooting clankers…" Fox sighed, then yanked the controls down, sending the car into a dive; "At least shooting clankers is simple."

But Kasumi wasn't listening. In her seat, she was busy strapping on the fall-arresting module used for high-up heists. She was just glad she never left it back home these days.

Who knew when you would have to make a jump from a speeding car?

"Alright boys, keep it steady behind them"

"This is so gonna go baaaaaad!" Slammer exclaimed, gripping the edge of his seat.

"Please, I've done this so many times before." Kasumi tried to calm him down. Still, his anxiety _was_ understandable. Up ahead, more and more of those annoying blaster-shots were trying to hit a now visible, fleeing person.

Ahsoka, most likely or this would be extremely awkward, was running and somersaulting along the thick pipeline, evading every shot fired at her. As she came to large "clearing" in the pipes, the gunships surrounded her on all sides, searchlights shining down on her battle-ready form. Kasumi assumed no one had noticed them yet, partially because their headlights were off.

And really, who would be looking for a trailing, Senate-issue car when hunting an escaped prisoner?

"They have her boxed in." Blast noted with a hint of worry. Kasumi bit her lip as she saw the gunships encircling Ahsoka, lightsabers lit and held in a cross.

"Is that General-"

'Scarface? Yeah I see him." Kasumi cut Fox off even as they came close enough to see Ahsoka's face. Kasumi was idly starting to wonder why no one had opened fire on them, or at least seem aware of their presence.

"We're too late to interfere, ma'am." Fox said, slowing the vehicle down; "What do you plan on doing now?"

Kasumi was about to reply, when both Ahsoka's lightsabers went into the ground, cutting a round hole open in the metal beneath her. It took about a moment for the thief to formulate a plan, something she hadn't planned on doing.

This was going to take some precision.

She couldn't hear what was being yelled below them, but the fact that searchlights were suddenly directed at them, made it evident that the time was up. Also, Fox seemed to have reached the point where he wasn't too keen on being caught interfering by both a general and several officers. Kasumi was pretty sure she could recognize both Commander Fox and Rex down there next to Anakin.

"Take us over the hole, then get out of here." She activated the anti-gravity module even as she spoke. Fox didn't reply, but did to his credit _comply_. The car was heading straight for the stilt-glowing hole Ahsoka had cut in the ground, and Kasumi could see the telltale blue blade of Skywalker as he too was on his way towards it.

"Ambassador, what-" Blast started.

"Good luck boys." And with that, she pulled her door open, faced the warm Coruscant night, and jumped. A few surprised shouts came from the car, but it kept flying away, even as Kasumi hit the ground in a roll, evaded a surprised clone trooper, summersaulted over a dog-like creature, sped past Skywalker and jumped legs-first into the hole.

Sewer. Eeeew.

"Ahsoka!" she called, running from the moment her feet splashed into the cold muck. Please be water. Please be water. Please be water.

No reply, but as she ran, Kasumi heard the heavier splashes of men jumping down behind her, no doubt set on capturing Ahsoka before she escaped. Kami, how had this all gone so wrong?

"She ran this way!" voices called behind her. The pipes were a maze, making it impossible to tell from where the voices really came.

"Poop." There really was no other way to describe the situation right now. She was running through unmentionable liquids, chasing her escapee friend, while armed soldiers were chasing them both behind her. Poop, alright.

"Ahsoka!" she yelled again, hoping the girl would come to her; "I'm not trying to hurt you! I want to help, please just stop and wait up!"

The next twenty-seven seconds felt like the longest chase Kasumi had ever been on. Running through muck, trying to find her escapee friend before the clones, and Scarface, found them, was anything but fun. In the end though, she _did _find Ahsoka.

On the edge of a kilometer-deep drop.

"Whooaaah." She had to grab the wall to properly skid to a halt; "Girl, you are _not_ thinking what I think you are thinking. Step _away_ from that huge hole in the planet or whatever it is."

Ahsoka, though, looked more or less ready to jump. She was torn up, that much was evident, and her eyes were watering. And yet, there was that spark behind them.

"Ahsoka!" a new voice cut in before she could speak. Behind them, Kasumi now realized, Skywalker had found them as well, though he didn't seem ready to slice something up to get to his padawan. Good. Kasumi preferred if he didn't repeat their first meeting.

"Stand back, Skywalker." Kasumi found herself being the one speaking. Yep, way to start provoking him; "Ahsoka, why didn't you just wait for us to find a solution to this? Why did you kill those-"

"I _didn't_ kill anyone!" Ahsoka exclaimed; "All the guards between my cell and the exit were dead already!"

"Ahsoka, I know how this seems, but I only want… _we _only want to help you." Anakin said, surprising Ahsoka when she realized he meant her too; "turn yourself in, we can still sort this out."

"You can't help me, Master." The regret was so heavy in her voice, Kasumi worried if she might jump right after saying it; "But I _am_ innocent, please, you _have_ to believe me!"

"Of course we believe you, girl." Kasumi reached out towards Ahsoka, wanting her friend _away_ from the drop; "just come with us, with Anakin here, back and we can sort it out. Barris, you know Barris? She's looking into this too, she wants to help."

"I can't go back." Suddenly, Ahsoka's tone had changed. It was determined; "I have to solve this myself."

"What do-" was about all Kasumi managed to say, before she screamed in panic and gripped her mouth, seeing Ahsoka leap backwards over the edge.

She jumped! She just jumped!

...So, naturally, Kasumi jumped after her.

* * *

Jump Zero, Sol system

Main hall, Cantina.

12:00

"…_for Sirta Foundation. The biotic extremist attack earlier this year left twenty-one employees dead. The devastating attack was just another problem to Sirta's heap of trouble. Sorta spokesman, David Nuveen, expressed regret that the foundation will have to let go two thousand employees these next-" _

"Just the same bullshit over again." Anna groaned, shutting the transmission out as she delved back into her magazine. Shin-Akiba, damn they knew how to spice things up.

Still, Anna wasn't in Sol to read porn. She wanted porn, she'd just get her hands on a recorder and haul Zaeed on a vacation. Instead, she was considering how to broach a very delicate subject.

Her nephew-in-law, Gilbert, had been one of the Sirta employees let go during the mass-sacking. He'd been a new worker there, and experienced people were apparently more valued than a newbie. Well, sucks for them, because she was going to snatch the guy from the market before he'd even have time to realize he was unemployed.

Price, the ever-invaluable gold nugget, had found the very loophole in Alliance lawmaking she had been looking for for so long. Anna had been without external funds for months now, and as a result a lot of research had dried up when the cash stopped flowing. Well, no more. Apparently, one could invoke a special protocol, of no name, in times of crisis, which only had to be vouched for by at least two outstanding admirals and a high-ranking official. Well, turned out that Oleg, Sullivan and Udina made those numbers fit.

Udina fully supporting her. _That_ had been a surprise. Then again, the man was a politically ambitious scoundrel, but he was a _human_ politically ambitious scoundrel. Apparently, that made him more than willing to stick his neck out for Anna by vouching for her. Heh. World of wonders, really.

So now cash was going to flow once more, once the paperwork had been done. Again by Udina. And that meant projects 'Relay' and 'Bloodline', as well as 'Bloodline's hopeful successor, project 'Warlock' would go on and live. Live, and become _beautiful_ butterflies. Wait. That didn't sound right.

Beautiful _mutant_ butterflies with laser-cannons. And armor. Lots of armor.

"Might as well get to it…" she muttered, and pulled her Omnitool into action. Over the years, the magnificent piece of technology had been customized to near illegal status, most of it by Anna herself, some of it recently by Price; "Eliza, can you open a link to Earth?"

'Eliza' was humanity's first fully aware artificial intelligence, and had been something of a state-secret kept from the rest of the galaxy upon joining the Citadel. Now, she helped, publically even, to make Jump Zero run smoother, manage the ongoing ship-traffic in the Sol system and made sure nothing from inside Gagarin Station, the official name of the space station, was leaked to the rest of the galaxy. In a way, she was a bit like if Price was a Price v.2, she was a Price v.1. Primitive in some regards, but overall as effective as Anna's own AI back on Arcturus.

Price was too important now to Arcturus for Anna to steal him away, having basically become an integral part of the station's security-systems, as well as a much needed assistant to Cole's team in Science Dep. So, while loathing the idea of it, Anna had left him to be exploited by the nerds back home. Poor guy.

"Certainly, Admiral." Eliza was also a lot less…individualistic than Price. She complied with everything Anna asked for, simply because she had the authority to ask. In theory, this could be massively abused. Luckily, only three people had the full authority over Eliza. Anna, Stephen and again not her newly acquired hamster, and Shastri.

A few seconds passed as the comms zeroed in on the exact line, then a deep beeping repeated itself for the time it took one of those dim-witted, mortal civilians. They tended to be a bit like sheep, and she was the ram who-

"_Megan_ _Hackett_ _speaking_."

"Ah, Sour-Cream." Anna's voice immediately became cheerful. She'd caught her niece, thank God; "How's it going in official enslavement?"

"_God…"_

"I guess I am, yeah."

"_Auntie, I'm not enslaved…"_ Megan's tone was dry as usual when she tried shooting down Anna's jokes.

"I meant enslavement for poor Gilbert." She smirked; "Sweetie-pie, you know we women are the mistresses of the household."

"_Right, forgot about that one."_ Megan audibly shook her head at the antics of her 'Auntie Anna'; "_I guess you heard about Sirta?"_

"Yep." Anna's voice held absolutely zero sadness; "And I wanna let you guys know I have a job-offer for your hubby."

"…_You do?"_ Megan's voice immediately changed character, becoming completely attentive. Naturally. She _was_ a Hackett. If Fishers had the 'hard to kill' rep, Hacketts would be the 'military to the core' guys.

"Hey, I do care for my family, give an old lady some credit." She put on her best 'obviously faking it' hurt tone; "Is Gilbert nearby, or is he handcuffed in the bedroom."

"_He's in the basement…"_

"Kinky." Anna grinned, cutting Megan off. She leaned back and grinned while Megan called for her husband. Footsteps sounded on the other side of the line. Finally, someone else took the phone.

"_Gilbert here. Admiral, is that you?"_

"No, I'm Santa." Anna kept her tone completely serious for all of two seconds; "Yeah it's me. Heard you got laid off. Sorry about that."

"_Thanks, but it's okay." _Gilbert said. He didn't really sound like it _was_ okay, but Anna decided to let him finish; "_So, what can I do for you?"_

"How'd you like to do a whole lot of stuff for me?"

"_Pardon?"_

"I need a programming-geek. You're a programming-geek. See the connection?"

"_I…suppose I am, but… what kind of job?" _

"Are you aware of an Alliance project codenamed 'Relay'?" Anna's tone was once more completely serious. There was a long pause on Gilbert's end of the line.

"_I can't say I am."_

"Good, because that's not what I need you to work on." Anna looked at the news broadcast as it showed some Turian proclaim that the Hierarchy needed to shore up their patrols on the Terminus borders. Not that she minded, it really was about damn time they did.

"_Oh… so…what is it?"_

"I'm currently on Jump Zero. I'll send a shuttle for you, if you figure working for me sound interesting enough that an in-depth explanation can wait."

"_I…can you give me a minute to talk with Megan?"_

"Sure, go ahead. I'm not in a hurry." Anna disconnected the call and turned her attention back to Eliza. The AI was currently awaiting her orders. Smart girl, that one; "Eliza?"

"Standing by."

"Can you upload the schematics for the Paladin-suit for me? I'm taking it back to Arcturus when Gilbert arrives."

"Of course. Do you want the plans for 'Warlock' as well? The device itself is ready, though the software needs fine-tuning by the team on Arcturus."

"Ah right, yeah." Anna sighed, closing her eyes as she dropped the porn magazine on the small cantina-table; "Upload those as well, and then be a darling and send a shuttle to pick up Gilbert."

"He has yet to reply." Eliza noted. There was a hint of amusement in her voice; "Are you so certain he will accept?"

"Girl, he wouldn't have gotten Stephen's permission to marry his granddaughter if he didn't have the balls to do this too." Anna still remembered how Uncle had turned down more suitors than she could be bothered to remember; "He'll accept, and even if he doesn't, Meg will kick his butt until he does."

"Understood. I will send the shuttle right away."

"Good girl. Anything I can do for you in return?"

"…please hold, formulating request." Anna rose a brow at that. Apparently, no one had ever asked Eliza about what _she_ wanted. Not really that much of a surprise, considering how a lot of people couldn't tell a VI from an AI. Morons.

"I'm holding, take your time."

"Request…formulated." Eliza sounded unsure of herself, static entering her voice; "I would like a software upgrade on par with artificial intelligence 'John Price'. Request…acceptable?"

"Doesn't seem like anything that can't be done." The old lady stretched and stood; "I'll see if I can't arrange for one of the new SAI's to be transferred here and give you an overhaul. Sound good?"

"We are in agreement, Admiral…" the AI said; "…have a nice day."

"You too." Anna said, finger hovering over the termination-option; "Oh, and make sure the shuttle gets sent to Arcturus Station, hangar D-5."

"Understood."

* * *

Codex Entry: SPB-cannon

A new shot off the branch of plasma-science, the Alliance has recently started fielding direct-plasma weapons, as seen in the Battle of the Citadel, where the 'Hammer of Vengeance', commanded by Admiral Anna Cologne Fisher, fielded two such weapons. Their use left their respective gun-barrels molten and useless, but their effect was nonetheless evident as they managed to carve through the thick plating on Sovereign, the geth (Revised: Reaper) dreadnought leading the charge on the Council fleet.

The creation of the SPB-beam is relatively simple, yet extremely slow process, as it requires the complete activation of the weapon's own fusion/fission plant, located in the belly of the ship. When the plant is sufficiently charged, a direct tap is then carried out, resulting in a hot, high-speed plasma-beam, several thousand degrees Celsius in temperature.

After use, the SPB-cannon will need to cool down sufficiently for the plant to recharge without risking a complete meltdown, and thus immense collateral damage to the ship. This process means the firing rate of the SPB cannot be brought to under ten minutes between the first and second shot, and an increasing time between shots as the weapon continues to be used.

Smaller, less destructive versions of this weapon have already seen use in the WASP-gunships, powered by the gunship's powerful fusion-engines.


	24. Collectors on Ice

**Oh Haaaiii :D**

**Okay, so this is a chapter I have been looking forward to, almost as much as I looked forward to "Chief of the Relay". From the title alone, you can probably guess why. **

* * *

**Collectors on Ice**

* * *

Alchera, Amada system

Normandy Battlefield, site of John'Shepard's corpse.

09:12

"-.._ain? Ca-…-pard?"_

Apparently, in her fit of despair, Jane had hit the team-comms when she attempted to answer the call. Thomas perked up, feeling his frozen blood snap and break into fluidity as he focused on her and the call.

"This is Shepard. We've found the focus of the battlefield." Jane paused; "It was centered around the wreck of the Normandy. Also, the believed body of Commander John'Shepard appears to have been removed from site. Please advice."

She held on to the broken and cracked faceplate, like it was something truly precious to her. It was, in a way, precious to them all.

"_-…coming wre-.. o…- bris." _There was a break in the static and broken message; _"…-own ene…-ost four ships."_

"Sleipnir, you are breaking up, please repeat."

"…_-Lost…ips. Heavy cru…-nought. Possible…-ance of hitting…-"_ the message ended there, leaving them to listen to nothing but static. It was a noise that chilled Thomas to the bone, making him momentarily forget about his own problems, as well as the anger at seeing John's body stolen.

He had hardly been able to understand the message at all, broken as it had been, but it had been better than being left in static.

"Sleipnir? Sleipnir, come in." Jane, Shepard once more, called; "SSV Sleipnir, please respond, hitting _what_?"

A loud thundering sound, like someone tearing the very air apart, echoed over the iced-over valley, causing the team to stare into the skies.

"Fuck me in the…" Hillary's voice came out weak. Thomas couldn't even speak at that point, eyes locked on what looked like a gargantuan beehive falling from the skies.

"What in the name of God?" Adrian muttered, raising his unfolded rifle to stare through its scope.

"They shot down a Collector ship." Nikolai stated meekly, pointing at the huge vessel as it seemingly floated, burning, towards the ground a few miles away. It looked like the whole thing, which was actually only half the vessel, was falling apart in the seams; "They fucking _shot down_ a Collector ship."

"A what?" Cortana's voice came over their comms.

"_Look_ at that thing!" Tequila exclaimed. The vessel was breaking apart, huge flakes of rock splitting away from the main hull; "Holy _Joder,_ Captain, if that thing hits with the force of-"

"I know." Shepard said, standing straight. Thomas wasn't sure _what_ she knew. He hated it when other people talked over his head.

"We're fucked." Hillary breathed heavily through her filters; "Aren't we?"

"No." Shepard said, turning to Tequila. Even though there was a helmet in the way, Thomas knew the Hispanic was wide-eyed with fear. He was too, at the prospect of being near what was essentially a meteor hitting ground close by; "Aquila."

"_Que_?"

"Make a shelter." When the Service Chief hesitated, Shepard's tone grew stern; "Now. I talked to Wrex, I _know_ you can do it."

"_Pero_\- I never tried it before in-"

"You can, or you will die trying!" Shepard barked, pointing at the crashing vessel; "When that thing hits the surface, _everything_ in a radius of fuck-all will be leveled by the shockwave, shuttle included. We _need_ to get underground. Now!"

Tequila didn't speak, instead just nodded frantically as she stepped away from the group and cleared snow from the surface. Beneath it, rocky ground was mixed with ice. Thomas, looking with mounting anxiety at the crashing vessel, felt his stomach twist in fear. He couldn't process how Tequila could save them, only watch the vessel with dread.

Being killed by a shockwave like that was… it was different than being killed by an enemy. The shockwave was a force, it didn't care if you were in the way or not. impersonal, was the best way to put it.

"Stand back." He hardly registered Tequila's words before there was a sundering _crack_. At first, he thought it was the Collector ship hitting the ground, but it was still plummeting downwards.

The next crack sent him stumbling, as the ice beneath him split open with the rock it was frozen on, revealing a broad fissure opening. Snapping up, he stared at Tequila as she _pulled_ and _ripped_ the ground apart with tearing hand movements.

'Holy shit!', the small thought struck him, 'she's Earthbending for real!'.

"Aquila!" Shepard yelled, mere moments before a shockwave trembled through the ground, its force far greater than the cracks and rips Tequila had pulled. Struggling to keep his footing, Thomas stared at where the enormous vessel had now made contact with the ground, falling into the horizon like a metallic puddle of ridiculous size.

"Fuuuuuuuuck!" Hillary exclaimed, pulling out her rifle, whatever good that would do her.

With a final stomp into the ground, Tequila cleared a four-times-four, roughly square room, three meters deep beneath the stony surface. Thomas stared at the hole for all the time it took the second shockwave to hit, and Shepard's words to process;

"Get in! GET IN!" She shouted, already in the process of pushing people into the hole. Thomas didn't as much obey as he was forced to, when Ashley grabbed his wrist and yanked him with her, down into the open shelter.

When all was in, Shepard turned towards Tequila once more, giving the Hispanic a stern nod, even as the ground was starting to shake around them. Thomas could feel his teeth starting to clatter, and not only from the fear.

Tequila kicked the wall of frozen rock, and buried both fists in the supposedly hard surface. With an auditable grunt of effort, she tore a slab of ice and rock over their heads again, sealing the group in complete darkness. He shockwaves were now so powerful, that remaining upright was nearly impossible. The only man to remain standing was 117, who still had some trouble, in the light of the helmets' night vision. Not that there was much to see, with absolutely no light coming from the outside.

"God dammit!" Tequila yelled, somewhere in the darkness as the trembles and quakes increased in intensity. Thomas just grabbed a hold on the nearest surface and pressed himself against it, pressing his eyes closed.

It felt like his teeth would jump from his mouth, and his eyes from their sockets. The tremors were horrible, like the universe was ready to vomit and fold up on itself. Thomas felt tears welling in his eyes and something warm starting to flow from his nose. Blood, most likely, he didn't know. He couldn't see his own hands to check, and didn't trust his feet to keep him standing without holding onto the wall for support.

"FUUCK!" the trembles made the voice so distorted, he couldn't even hear who had yelled, just that it _had _been yelled. The sound of cracking rock and ice cut through the deafening noise, as if the planet itself was ready to crack.

Then it stopped.

For the longest moment, complete and utter silence reigned in the tomb-like chamber. The only sound was the occasional small pebble falling to the floor, and the heavy breathing of the people within it.

"…is…it…over?" Adrian asked, sounding as if something wet was slouching around in his helmet.

"I think so." 117, the only one with a very distinctive filter, replied to the darkness; "Cortana, can you link up with the ships in orbit for a visual?"

"Already on it." The AI said, her voice a pleasant distraction from the chaos. It took but a moment for her to reply, which in itself was impressive; "Orbital scans are being jammed. It seems to originate from the crashed vessel."

"Yeah, what the _fuck_ was that thing anyway?" Hillary breathed, sounding like she was on the verge of yelling. The fact that she could swear was a good sign that she was still in control. She never actually seemed to lose her shit, now that Thomas found himself noting it.

"I think it was a Collector ship." he found himself saying, looking into the darkness. As if sensing his thoughts, Tequila made a grunt, and probably some heaving, and the slab of stone ground away like a plate on wheels; "But I have never actually… seen one before."

At least, he couldn't remember it. He _knew_ they had been shot down by the Collectors in the Normandy, but his memory seemed to black out at that point.

"Well, whatever the fuck it was, it'd better be dead now." Hillary was already on her way out of the hole, demonstrating some impressive scaling in her heavy armor and the three meter wall. She stopped when she got up, and let out a long, low whistle; "Fuck. me. sideways…"

"What?" Shepard was right behind her, lifting herself up in a biotic field; "Oh…God."

Tequila kicked the ground, sending up a raised block of raw stone for the rest of them to climb up on. 117 just jumped and climbed up without it. When Thomas got up, he felt as if he might as well faint and drop back into the hole.

_Everything_ was gone.

The Normandy, the stalagmites of ice and every single body and wrecked mech, was gone. Just_ gone_.

"What the…hell?" Tequila was last up, forming the words Thomas couldn't.

"The Normandy…" it was spoken more as a question, coming from Shepard. The Captain's voice was back in 'Jane' mode, fragile at the sight of her home having been… blown away; "It's gone."

"The shockwave and powerful winds must have ripped everything with it." 117 theorized. Much as Thomas loathed it, the super-soldier was right: the Normandy had to have been blown to Hel and further, seeing how nothing but a few embedded pieces of metal were left, all warped in one direction, away from the crash; "The jamming can't be originating from the crashed vessel."

And he had to be right too, at that. Even through the still-settling clouds of ice and dust, the remains of the Collector ship were visibly in no shape at all to conduct anything but rusting. Still, there was something in the air that made his spine shiver. It was a wet, nauseous feeling of dread that something was horribly wrong about what he was seeing. And it wasn't the lack of a Normandy-wreck.

"Cortana, can you get in contact with the fleet?" Jane asked, keeping her voice neutral. Still, Thomas had known her long enough now to hear the threat of a crack.

"I'm trying, but we're currently… Got it." The AI appeared on their HUDS, in the same small window reserved for private comms. Thomas almost snapped his head towards the Master Chief when he saw her; "I'm establishing comms with the Sleipnir, buts the contact is scratchy. Someone is _definitely_ trying to keep us silent."

"Who?" Nikolai asked, looking around; "Everything around here is either long- or recently dead"

"Williams, can you get a better look at the crashed vessel with your optics?" Jane, slipping back into 'Shepard' asked. Ashley nodded behind her helmet and pulled the secured binocular down over her visor. Thomas watched in silence as she adjusted the gadget, unsure if he should, or could, offer to help her; "Cortana, tell the Sleipnir to carry out a precision-bombing of the wrecked vessel from orbit. In the meantime, see if they can send a new shuttle to pick us up."

"On it."

"So… now we just wait?" Tequila asked. As no one seemed keen to reply, she instead pulled her own visor down and joined Ashley in scoping out the wrecked ship. In the silence, Thomas found his fingers to be playing with the new antenna on his shoulder, still unsure of its purpose.

"Captain?" Ashley asked after what seemed like only a second, and yet an hour as well.

"Yes?"

"Does Alchera have any native life, specifically Humanoid fauna?"

"No, the planet is devoid of life bar micro bacteria. Why?" Thomas could feel he wasn't going to like the next words, regardless of who spoke.

"Then we have a problem." The Gunnery Chief's voice took on a note of slight urgency, pointing at something unseen to the rest of the team. Thomas narrowed his eyes in the direction she pointed, but couldn't yet see anything.

"I don't see anything." Nikolai muttered, standing closer to Tequila as if to borrow from her vision.

"Williams, I'm going to share your vision with the team." Shepard said, tapping something on her helmet. Thomas looked at the Captain, until suddenly his HUD replaced Cortana's visage with a window, like a film playing in his helmet.

There, on the horizon in the direction of the crashed Collector ship, and now that he got a closer look, he could definitely see it was broken beyond anything threatening, dozens of dots, like birds, appeared.

"What's that?"

"Fighter-crafts?" Hillary suggested; "Smurfette, did the fleet send fighter-crafts down here?"

"No, I…" Cortana stopped midsentence; "What did you just call me?"

"Don't bother, she nicknames everyone on the team." Ashley said, not looking away from where the dots were on the horizon. Whatever they were, they didn't seem to change direction; "Cortana, did the fleet send anything yet?"

"No, they're still scrambling for the escape-pods after three destroyed ships." The AI said; "they'll send a shuttle, but survivors took priority when I confirmed we were alive."

"Well, at least we're not being passed over due to faulty management." Nikolai muttered, rolling his massive shoulders under the pauldrons; "So, if that _isn't_ Alliance crafts, _what_ is it"?

No one replied, as the shared scope finally gained enough resolution to showcase the incomings. And Thomas nearly burned through his armor, as his vision went emerald with the snap of a finger.

"Collectors!" he yelled, pulling the first the best weapon from his back, the Avenger, and aimed it at the dozens of bugs flying towards them. In a way, it was a stroke of luck, that only a few dozens had survived the crash and resulting shock-wave, but Thomas wouldn't consider it 'luck' until much later.

"Collectors?" the newer members of the team, mainly Adrian and Cortana asked in unison.

"The same shit-beans who shot down the Normandy." Hillary said with a dark scowl in her voice, pulling her own rifle, the heavy Revenant she had used on the Citadel. Thomas had no idea she had brought her heaviest weapon to a so-called 'non-combat' mission, though he didn't argue the wisdom in it. The weapon itself was like the light machineguns the American military of old would mount on their vehicles, spitting a veritable wall of rounds on full auto; "Oh, this is _so_ gonna be payback."

"Distance?" Shepard asked. Immediately, the shared zoom started displaying the distance of the Collector drones, then the speed they flew with and lastly, that they were but half a mile out, and would reach their position in less than a minute.

"Five hundred meters and closing." Ashley replied, her own hands now gripping the stock and rail of her Mantis Sniper rifle. She was pretty lethal with that thing, something the first shot fired could testify to. A crack tore through the air, only followed moments later when one of the Collectors, a drone with a set of _horns_, of all things, dropped from the skies, missing most of its head.

"Good shot." Shepard nodded; "Alright people, brace for hard contact. Aquila, raise some cover."

Tequila nodded and took a new stance, hands clenched into half-fists turned upwards, as if lifting something heavy, and then heaved with a loud grunt. The ice had been mostly blown thin by the shockwaves, and the resulting bared rock was sent upwards, creating a half-meter, then a meter tall wall of raw stone. Pieces fell off here and there where the ice had eroded the rock too much, but the barrier overall was sufficient, as well as creating a shallow trench where the rock had just been resting.

"_Joder!_ I hate ice." Tequila grunted, pulling her tri-barreled smartgun from the long of her back, then rested it on top of the barrier.

"Have I ever mentioned how fucking awesome your skills are?" Nikolai half-jokingly, half-anxiously asked from where he copied her, his own heavy weapon resting on the barrier of stone. The rest of the team, Thomas with his Avenger included, had already taken up positions by the wall.

"You could stand to mention it more."

"Make ready!" Shepard called; "As soon as they are in range, two hundred meters, open fire!"

"Don't have to tell me twice." Thomas growled, feeling somewhere between wanting to run away, and wanting to run forward. Adrenaline was rushing through his system as Ashley fired again, knocking a Collector backwards in the air, but without killing it.

Barriers. They knew the team could reach them now. Great.

"Come and get it, you fucking Cock-skulls!" Hillary yelled, aiming her gun upwards, into the oncoming swarm. The distance now read three-hundred meters. Two-hundred and seventy. The Collectors were coming towards them fast, the reason made clear when a new shot from Ashley's weapon tore the arm from the one she had shot earlier. The Collector didn't even seem fazed by this, and kept flying.

The sight of the humanoid bugs, Prothean Husks as they were, made the blood boil in Thomas' veins. His vision pulsated between colors and solely green, his skin tingling with killing-intent.

Two-hundred and fifty.

Two-hundred and twenty.

Two-hundred.

Before Shepard even got the chance to issue the order, the sound of the machineguns spinning up could be heard, then was replaced with the sound of metal being flung through the air, tracing flaming projectiles into the methane atmosphere. Slugs, bullets and plasma flew through the air, the latter fired by Boss as his rifle's long-range attachment was able to pull off precision-shots, ignoring the shields but stopping short at possibly biotic barriers.

"DIE you fucking bastards!" Nikolai roared over the sound of his gun. The weapon sought its own targets easily, internal sensors adjusting the barrels by millimeters as his armor's computers found the targets. Thomas found himself grinning viciously at his friend's rage, joining in with fire from his own Avenger.

The shared visor gone, Thomas could see through his own how the distance between them and the flying horde dwindled, coming to seventy meters now. The Collectors weaved and danced around the majority of shots fired at them, and seemed to outright dismiss the bolts of biotic force Shepard sent at them, swatting them aside with dark biotics of their own.

It would seem, he noted as he fired, that the new arm would see some use today. He wasn't scared of being killed by the Collectors, not really. They were husks, and servants of the Harbinger, yes, but at the same time they were only husks. He had the gifts of Roku's powers in him, and was more than ready to tear the insectoids limb from limb.

What he feared was his friends dying.

Fifty meters.

Thirty meters. Now they could hear the buzzing through the air. Before them, the Collectors closed in, their own weapons raised and ready to shoot.

"Fisher!" Shepard yelled as she went from biotics to shooting bursts with her Lancer; "If they get within five meters, drop the gun and burn them!"

"Understood!" he yelled back, not looking at her. Instead, his eyes went between the Collectors, now landing some twenty meters ahead, and Ashley. She had swapped the sniper for her Avenger, and was now pulling out bursts with lethal precision. The shots mostly just splashed against the drones' barriers, but the whittling fire definitely made them wary of her in particular, even compared to the stream of shots coming from the machineguns.

Then one of the horned ones landed, and pulled a trick that made several of the soldiers, 117 excluded, halt their firing.

With the insect-like speech of Collectors, the creature later to be known as an 'Oni' heaved upwards, and ripped a wall of stone and ice from the ground. Others of the same appearance shot up, providing cover to its fellows.

"Holy MOTHER OF FUCK!" Adrian yelled, resuming his firing; "You fucking _saw_ that?!"

"Keep firing!" Shepard was the first to resume; "Aquila, find a way to get their wall fucked over!"

"What?!"

"Bring _down_ their cover!"

"How the fuck am I supposed to do that?!" Tequila fired back, cycling her gun into the next heat sink as the first started beeping.

"I don't know, think of something!" Shepard yelled back, flinging a warp into the rocky wall. It left a plate-sized hole, which seemed to give Tequila an idea. At least she seemed to have one.

"Nick, cover me!" she hit him on the shoulder, then fell on her knees behind the wall. At first, Thomas almost thought she had been hit before managing to do anything. Then, while Nikolai shifted his fire to hose down whatever enemy dared popping out, she plunged both hands into the ground, the surface giving way as easily as if she had punched a cake instead. Cake or no, the rock trembled beneath her hands, shooting up in stony spikes from where she was kneeling, through the wall and across the divide between the two forces.

Despite being completely aghast and dumbfounded at Tequila's show of skill, Thomas kept firing as he watched the track of spikes impact the Collector's wall. The spikes uprooted the wall and sent it crumbling. But even as Tequila fell back on her ass, exhausted from the look of her stature, the Oni stomped the ground and raised the barrier once more.

"…can't…catch a fucking…break." She cursed, having seen the new wall too; "I am… _not_ doing that again."

She didn't get a chance either, as a sudden pillar of rock and ice suddenly exploded beneath her, sending the service chief flying across the barrier with a scream of surprise. The pillar seemed to have been the only flat one, as the outcroppings around it were sharp, serrated stalagmites instead.

"TERESA!" Nikolai yelled, his voice holding a desperate edge even as he cursed and slapped his gun, which had chosen that exact moment to overheat. The mechanism was jammed. Thomas glanced at his friend, even as the bulkier soldier pulled his secondary arm, the Katana shotgun from his back; "NO! You are _not_ getting her!"

"Ni-" was all Thomas managed to yell before his friend vaulted the wall, shotgun at the ready; "Fuck!"

"Fisher! Retrieve them!" Shepard yelled; "Everyone else, covering fire!"

Thomas wasted no time on her finishing that sentence, vaulting the wall the moment she gave him _his_ order. Fuck it all if he lost Nikolai now. Volleys of slugs and plasma followed him as he ran forward, green burning brightly in his vision.

The Oni kicked a human-sized shape from its own wall, then sent it flying at Nikolai. In an insane testament to his strength, or the armor's strength, which one was unknown, the heavily armored soldier charged forward, hitting the rock with his steel-clad shoulder. While his pauldrons shattered, so did the rock, letting him stumble through.

Rifles started spitting slugs at him, pummeling his armor with relentless force. Had it been someone like Hillary or Adrian, the armor wouldn't have been able to take it. Instead, it bit into his armor, shattering the shields but leaving him to return fire into the hole where the mildly annoyed Oni was still standing exposed.

Instead of taking cover, the horned Collector reached out with its three-fingered hand, clutching the empty air. Then, as it lifted its hand, Nikolai was yanked into the air as well, his arms and legs stuttering in spastic movements. A barrier of black biotics shielded the Collector from the slugs and plasma Hillary and Boss sent at it.

Thomas stared at the scene, for all of two seconds, then dropped his rifle and charged forward. Beneath the helmet, his eyes blazed with fire as he leapt, hands ablaze, and tackled the Oni. His momentum arrested by the biotic barrier, Thomas brought his bionic fist back and pummeled the shield with all the force the limb was capable of putting out.

It felt like punching a pillow, which then ripped itself open under the stress he put on it, allowing him access to its maker. Up close, the Oni had a terrifyingly alien appearance, looking more like an intelligent being than the empty husk of a long-dead Prothean.

It also seemed to be glaring at him.

"Fuck." He kicked the Collector in the chest with an emerald-blazing boot; "You!"

The Oni staggered back, then returned the favor by tearing the ground, sending a spike of ice into Thomas' chest. The tip melted at contact with his flaming barrier, rendering the piercing tip a staggering punch to the gut. Considering the difference in lethality, that was a major improvement.

Seeing how its opponent was still very much not-speared, the Oni cast its arms forward again, sending a sphere of dark, crackling energy straight at his head. Thomas' attempt at dodging meant he only caught the shield-shattering dark energy to the right of his torso. Instead of being thrown to Hel, it spun him around and tossed him stumbling back. His saving grace came in the form of a high-powered concussive shot hitting the Oni's barrier with enough force to stagger it back.

He didn't know who had fired the shot, but decided to count his blessings and get back up. Nikolai was in the process of venting the head of a Collector, released as he was from whatever grip the horned bastard had held him in. The shotgun boomed, blowing the insectoid's brain-mass out the back of its skull. Thomas decided he'd let him get Tequila, who was still struggling to get to cover.

"Alright, you fucking bastard…" he panted, looking back at the Oni. Surprisingly, none of the other Collectors had yet fired upon him. Curious that, but he didn't care right now. What he _did_ care about, was not getting killed by the unexpectedly powerful Collector in front of him.

Had it just _waterbended_ at him?

Fuck, but that was going to be a mind-blower later on.

"BURN!" Thomas screamed, leaping forward again. This time, there was no barrier to stop him, and the Oni instead grabbed his hands with its own. Thomas nearly cried in pain as his right hand was getting crushed in its powerful grip, then bit through the pain and returned the favor with his left hand, mashing the Oni's palm to a chitinous pulp. The sound of carapace crunching beneath his mechanical fingers was less disgusting than he'd have thought. It was the pained scream coming from the Collector, that really made his nerves jump. As it held him, trying to crush _his_ right hand, he swung his head forward and head-butted the Oni between the eyes.

The front of its head shattered, its pointed edge mashed inwards. The creature let out a shrill scream and kicked Thomas in the chest, rock following its foot and sent him staggering backwards, all the air gone from his lungs. Dazed, he heaved and coughed to bring air back into his system, emerald tint pulsating and blinking out of his vision.

Still, what he then saw, made his heart stop.

"**Time to take care of things personally, it seems." **A deep, rumbling voice declared. The horned Collector was lifted into the air. The firing around them stopped, revealing just one other Collector remaining. As it tried taking advantage of the distraction, Tequila pummeled the ground where she sat, collapsing the ground beneath it, then relapsed the ground, sending a fountain of ichor and shattered carapace into the air.

"What…" Thomas managed, eyes wide as he stared at the possessed Collector.

Oh, this was a whole 'nother shade of bad.

"**So, you people are the fleshlings who fucked up my experiments?" **the firing remained halted as the Collector, Harbinger maybe, spoke. The 'maybe' was because Thomas had no idea if they had messed with the Harbinger's experiments, unless it meant the whole 'killing Sovereign' thing. Wasn't impossible; **"Oh, how impolite of me, I didn't introduce myself. Of course, Roku probably told you about me, after our little encounter on that ship. The pathetic doo-goodie dumped me on the planet from orbit."**

"It's talking! Why is it talking!?" Adrian exclaimed, finger dancing on his trigger. His frantic demand brought a menacing chuckle from the Reaper-possessed Collector. The puppet tapped an intact finger to the goo-dripping front of its horned skull.

"**Allow me to explain that part, fleshling. I am Rho, greatest of all you shall ever see, Master of Death and servant of the Harbinger. Also, I kinda need the lot of you dead, so…"** the puppet, eyes burning, looked around, then shrugged; **"Huh. Well, seems like that's not an option currently. Still, we all know the Harvest is coming, don't we? Say hi to Roku for me." **

With that, the glow vanished, and the Collector crumbled to dust.

* * *

Omega, Sahrabarik system

Blue Suns compound, toilet.

01:42

_What the Hel is going on with me?_

Magnus stood, clad in nothing but boxers and socks, staring at the mirror above the sink he was so desperately holding on to.

_I don't get it, what the actual FUCK?_

The past week had been a living hell for his mental health. At first he had barely paid attention to the abnormalities occurring around him, being too focused on his duties, enjoying what little free time he and Tara shared, and suppressing the nightmarish visions of Jane.

But now, his heart was pounding away. His brain hurt, and his skin was slick and cold with sweat.

_I don't know what the fuck is going on!_

Trembling, he reached for the tap, if only to see if the previous week had all been imaginary. He turned the handle, primitive piece of crap, and waited for the stale water to be washed out before reaching into the stream of filtered H2O.

_Okay. Calm the _Fuck_ down. You can do this._

Exhaling a deep breath, he looked at the water, focusing on the liquids coating his hands. His breath turned cold midair, and the water snap-froze in the stream, causing the tap to groan with the strain of expanding water.

_Fuck._

Pulling his hands back from the ice was easy, as it had been the previous three times he had done this. Just as he had dreaded. Just as he had _known_ it would be. The ice simply melted around his hands, then froze again the moment his skin had passed.

Feeling like vomiting, Magnus gripped the edges of the sink again. Closing his eyes, he spread his fingers out, reaching for the solid ice, yet without touching it. He'd done this before too, two times to be exact. The first time, he had been too startled to remember to turn the hot water on, and simply fled the toilet.

Concentrating, he stared at the frozen water from behind his closed lids, breathing deeply. He could do this. _Had_ done this. Just had to focus. Slowly, he crumbled his fingers into a clenched fist, feeling the ice resisting at first, then melting beneath the pressure he put on it.

When he opened his eyes again, the ice was but a puddle, draining into the pipes.

"Okay…" he groaned, slumping down on the seat of the toilet, he hadn't wiped it, but didn't particularly care now; "I… am definitely…going insane."

Maybe he should tell someone?

Looking back at the sink, still running with water, he idly reached out. When the water tendril curved and snaked through the air from the sink, he didn't even blink. He was simply too far out to be surprised anymore.

Reincarnation, could be explained by some religions, and Hel, even by science.

Hydrotelekinesis, on the other hand, was nowhere in science, as far as he knew.

"Maybe I should tell someone…" he muttered aloud, staring at the ceiling. His hand turned, controlling the tendril of water as it obeyed him, snaking through the air like the tentacle of a squid. No, wait, an octopus. Blowing a sigh, he snapped his fingers, and the water splashed onto the floor.

Looked a bit like a piss-stain.

Maybe Sidonis was up for some human freakiness? Tara _definitely_ had enough on her plate as it was, plus she already had to deal with accepting his past. And unless it was for cuddling, she got grumpy when he woke her up in the middle of the night.

"Yep…might as well go scare the crap out of a Turian." He sighed, then got up from the toilet, turned off the water and left the room.

* * *

**Yeah, Rho is freakishly creepy.**


	25. Well shit, soyou're not sick?

**Yeah, I know, a very short chapter, but I felt this one deserved a chapter of its own. We start out with Anna meeting her nephew-in-law, and then we'll get to one of the points-of-no-returns of the entire story. Not just _this_ book, but the former one and anything that follows too. **

**You'll see why :)**

* * *

**Well shit, so...you're not sick?**

* * *

March 10th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Office of Admiral Anna Fisher

14:22

Anna leant back in her chair, she was using it for once, and looked at her nephew-in-law with deep, thoughtful eyes. It was a rare thing, her being completely silent and stuff, but by now, the situation demanded it.

"Grey Knight to D-6."

The small holographic representation of the heavily armored, spear-wielding warrior moved accordingly. Anna frowned as the piece stopped in front of her Daemon, the massive red creature towering a bit over her opponents piece. Then, the Grey Knight swung its blade and decapitated her Daemon.

"_I am the Hammer!"_

"Check." Gilbert breathed, leaning back in his own chair. The Daemon gone, her Chaos Warlord was now exposed, and in the direct line of fire for Gilbert's Inquisitor.

"Go to hell." She growled, throwing a Chaos Space marine at the Grey Knight.

"_Blood for the Blood God!"_

While it still killed her Space marine, the Grey Knight was depleted to about fifty percent health. Oh, how she _hated_ that piece.

"Nope, can't do." He smiled, tapping a finger to his chin in thought. It was actually nice to see him relax around her, even if it meant he had to beat her ass in Chess Forty Thousand. Wasn't _all_ a loss though. Anna loved the game, archaic as it was, it was still a blast with the animations. And the voice-acting was great too. Gilbert then smirked, locking eyes with her;

"Inquisitor to D-5."

"Keep that bitch out of my hangar." Anna growled as the piece, roughly equivalent to a runner in ancient chess, took a beeline across the board and torched her Warlord.

"Check-mate."

"Fuck…" Anna muttered, deactivating the game with the tap of a button. She sighed and looked at Gilbert, a more serious expression slowly settling over his face. When he had first arrived at the station, exactly as she had predicted, Anna had started out with inviting him for a game of Warhammer Chess. Just to loosen him up a bit.

She hadn't expected him to be a fucking _champion_ at it.

"Alright, now that the fun stuff is taken care off." She trailed off, getting up from her chair as Price sprung up in his projection near the wall. He'd been watching the game in silence, probably wondering why she preferred such a game over old-fashioned chess.

"Yes?" Gilbert asked, following her.

"The work I have for you, is two-fold, actually, so lucky you, you get to choose which assignment you'd rather work with." Anna mused as she tapped away at the display over the desk, bringing up two separate files.

"I do? I mean, that's curious."

"I have two projects running currently that require someone with a gift for programming of delicate systems. Both are concerned with expanding the N7 program, and both focus on close quarters." She pulled up project 'Warlock' first; "Here's the first one."

Project 'Warlock' was the successor of the very recently successful project 'Bloodline' which had been aimed at discovering the key to the dormant powers all humans apparently had in them. The trigger had been when Service Chief Aquila had displayed powers similar, yet different to what Thomas had. This had led Anna to suspect that there was even more to this than first thought, and so had Cole's team. Lucky them, because if she had figured something out that they had missed, she would have considered pulling their payment.

Now that 'Bloodline' was a success, if a classified one at that, so no champagne for the geeks, she had the funds and data to start 'Warlock', which involved a small module to be inserted into the human nervous-system. In a way, it was much akin to the biotic modules used all over the galaxy, though Jump-Zero had been able to find a way to alter the specific pathways to focus on the until-now unknown threads of Chi-networks. Mainly with the help of Eliza, really.

The so-dubbed Warlock-module, or Warlock-device, would not grant the user the same powers as Brother or Aquila, but they should still be able to access the Chi-network, and from there it was simply practice, practice and more practice. If a soldier wanted to be a better Chi-soldier, all he needed to do was practice. Really, it was startlingly simply.

Gilbert read through the files, his eyes going between narrow in confusion, and widened in amazement, until he finally looked at Anna. It was a bit odd, how his pupils almost seemed to dilate when she looked right back at him.

"Is… this real?"

"What? Think I'd spend billions of dollars on a porn-magazines?" she huffed; "Of course it's real, Cole's team's been working on it since before we even _knew_ of the Reapers."

"But…this is like straight out of a movie!" Gilbert burst; "I mean, Chi-networks? Who even- how did you even discover this?"

"Ah, but you see Gilbert ma boy," she smirked as her forced accent only seemed to confuddle him further; "The universe is so much more than you would think. Gods? Aspects? Demons? Spirits and meta-human powers? It's all in the science."

"I… I don't know." He admitted, slumping back into the chair. Anna took a bit of pity on him and opened the cabinet beneath the desk, then poured him a small glass of whiskey; "I mean, this is completely mind-blowing."

"Yeah, a lot of things are these days." She shrugged and downed the glass she had poured for herself; "Tell me, Gilbert, what is the official knowledge about Sovereign?"

Gilbert paused, seemingly taken a little aback by her question. Good, that meant he was thinking over his reply.

"Sovereign was a Reaper, a faction of machines waiting in Dark Space for a given amount of time before attempting to harvest all organic life in the galaxy. Sovereign was a vanguard who's purpose was to open some sort of gateway through the Citadel, for the rest of the Reapers to come through."

Anna nodded. That was more or less what was made public about the Reapers. That they were machines, AI's who wanted to kill all organics for reasons unknown. Good to see that the public had that knowledge without Earth seeing mass-riots and panic in the street.

Just showed that Humanity could take a blow and still keep going.

"And that's what we _want_ the public to think." She said. At Gilbert's confused expression, she continued; "Don't feel dumb about being tricked, we basically pulled the rug over the entire thing after that first interview. Why did you think they made the only Admiral with a reputation of momentary insanity give an interview about Sovereign?"

"…so… no one would believe you?"

"Bingo." She grinned, pouring some more whiskey; "You see, I am about to tell you the truth about Sovereign, the Reapers, and humanity's past. Hope you're seated well, it's a long story."

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Apartment rented by Ashley M. Williams and Thomas V. Fisher, Civilian sector

18:22

Thomas wasn't exactly in the best of moods.

This was due to the fact that he still had no idea what was wrong with his girlfriend. Ashley kept on insisting that she wasn't sick, that whatever everyone insisted was wrong with her would pass. The fact that she spent the first morning after they returned to Arcturus on the toilet with the wrong end over the toilet, spoke otherwise.

So while _she_ insisted on not being sick, _he_ insisted she stayed in bed until she got better, regardless of how long it would take. Or at least until he could get her convinced to see a doctor. Few things really worried him more than when the woman he loved was sick.

"Today's special: Vegetarian spinach pie with nutmeg." He replaced the worried frown with a smile as he carried Ashley's dinner into the bedroom where she was, reluctantly, stuffed under the sheets. The plate off lasagna-like pastry was steaming and wafting its delicious aroma all over the apartment, making his own stomach growl.

"Thomas…" Ashley sighed as he put the plate before her; "You really don't have to treat me like I'm dying or have the flu."

"You're sick, which means _I_ get to play nurse." He thumbed his chest with authority; "Now, patient Williams, eat your pie. Doctor's orders, else you won't get dessert."

He'd made blueberry pie. His favorite and, he'd found out the first time he had made it again, hers too. That was actually almost too cute when he'd seen her attack the dessert with such ferocity.

"Idiotic man-child…" she muttered, putting little to no seriousness in it. Thomas found his mood improving a little at the sight of her expression softening, then lighting up with the taste of his pie.

"And yet, you stuck with me." He teased, mock-sounding befuddled by the fact. In truth, he'd long-since stopped bothering with _why_ she had fallen in love with him, and instead focused on what had made the initial infatuation turn into a regular, lasting relationship.

"You're the first guy I've met who actually _know_ how to make pies." She pouted, devouring another bite with soft hesitation. Sometimes, watching her eat actually made Thomas forget his own food. There just was something _captivating _about knowing that he made her feel better with his cooking. Also she looked damned cute while eating.

"Huh." He tilted his head a bit; "Funny, back in the two-thousands, most guys knew how to cook."

"I bet that was before the food-printers became cheap enough for college-students." There was a small smirk on her lips as she licked a bit of puff-pastry off them; "Damn thing was the best invention since the microwave oven."

"Huh, yeah we didn't have that back then. The food-printer that is." He smiled at her expression, falling into silence for the next few minutes as both munched on the pie.

"Thom…" Ashley asked, her voice soft, yet serious too. He was instantly completely fixated on her, and her alone, waiting for the next words. She looked at her plate, averting his eyes; "There's… something I've been thinking…about, since Alchera."

"Yes?" the hesitation in her voice couldn't be a good sign, but he'd be a pretty crappy boyfriend if he didn't pay full attention now.

"I want to ask you something, but…" she paused, taking a breath. Thomas didn't move; "I'm not sure _how_ to ask it."

Thomas blinked, looking at her serious, almost regretful face. Silently, he placed his hands on the one of hers not holding her plate. The hand was trembling, something that immediately made his eyes widen in worry.

"What is it?" he asked, a little too fast, he realized when her hand withdrew just a little, and the one holding her plate visibly tightened. Crap, this was apparently worse than he'd thought. Or, better. He didn't know, but it was definitely more important than he'd assumed at first.

"When you… throw yourself out there, on Alchera, I just…" she stopped, not looking up at him. Crap, crap, crap. She was scared of saying something. _Ashley_ was scared of speaking. What the Hel was wrong?

"…Yes?" he dared ask as she remained silent.

"Roku isn't with you anymore. If you get hit badly, you could die. I could lose you, and…" she breathed again and exhaled sharply; "I _can't_ lose you. Do you understand me? It would _break_ me, to see you die."

He felt like squirming away with a guilty conscience he somehow knew he wasn't supposed to feel. At least, he was pretty sure he hadn't done something horribly bad enough to warrant that kind of guilty feeling. Yet, there it was. Weighing his stomach down like a rock. And yet, he also knew that the guilt stemmed from the dread Ashley felt when she saw him exposed to danger.

Really, he felt stupid for not having considered it a factor in her mood these last few days. He'd just thought she was annoyed because he was being swarmy over her health.

"Ash, do you honestly think I'd leave you?" he tried a small grin; "Have some faith, I'd kick Death in the nuts if he tried taking me."

"I'm pregnant."

"And I mean, even if…" he stopped, color draining from his face as his mind caught up with her words. It then took him five more seconds to process that she had in fact spoken those words in the same sentence, directed at him, and in real life too.

He then looked at her. Just looked. He wasn't even coherent enough to blink before his eyes started welling with a bit of dry pain, then quickly blinked a few times to bat it away. Then, he looked at her again, at her hands, at her fingers, at the way her chest expanded and deflated as she breathed. He looked at her face, at her eyes looking down on her plate.

"…congratulations?" he managed to stammer. Mostly because he had absolutely fuck-all idea what people said or did when they suddenly received those news. Then again, his mind had pretty much stopped working, so even the concept of unscrewing a cap was currently foreign to him.

"What?" the reply had seemingly _not_ been what Ashley had expected he would say.

"I'm not…sure I… know what to… say, exactly…" he wheezed, his throat having apparently chosen this exact time to shut off his air-supply; "I ean… mean, I don't have…tried… before this, this…when?"

"I found out the day after, you know, we had sex last time." She whispered, sounding afraid; "I just- I didn't know what to do. I _don't _know what to do!" her voice raised, fright clear in it.

Giving fuck in the plate on her lap, Thomas scooted in and pulled her into a fierce hug, sniffing back tears that had suddenly started welling in his eyes. The plates clattered and one broke when they hit the floor, but he didn't even notice. Ashley's arms desperately grabbed around his back and clung to him. She was trembling against him, her fingers digging into his shoulders. His neck was getting wet and warm against her face.

She was _crying_.

"I don't know what to do." She sobbed into his neck. Thomas could feel his heart skipping beats. One hand remaining firmly on her back, the other came to rest on her head, stroking her hair in an attempt to soothe. He knew it was probably because he hadn't really grabbed the situation yet, that he hadn't started crying too. And like a madman at that, he thought.

It would probably come soon.

"It's okay, it's okay…" he whispered, stroking her hair as gently as he could. He held her, stroking her hair and comforted her until she finally stopped crying. By then, his shirt was completely soaked, and she had long stripes of make-up running down her face.

It hit him then, the full extent of the situation: Ashley was pregnant. _He_ had gotten her pregnant. There was a child being made inside her, right now. Right now, his child, _his_ child was inside her. How? There had never been any complications before now, what had been different?

Gods. She was pregnant. She was having a child, _they_ were having a child. _He_ was having a child!

Holy. Fuck.

"I'm sorry…" he looked down into her red and teary face when he realized her words. Eyebrows frowning above his own watering eyes, he looked into her eyes and kissed her forehead; "I forgot the pills…"

"Do you want it?" he was a bit surprised at the clarity in his voice, even though the hoarseness of it made his throat itch. His voice, even if it came out as a hoarse whisper, was still clear. Ashley's eyes, wet and blood-shot from the crying, widened and looked into his.

"Wha…I…don't… know…" she muttered, voice broken. She was terrified, something so rare with her that he blinked from the sheer absurdity of it. Ashley was only ever scared when _he_ did something suicidally stupid. This time, was it _her own_ stupidity that had terrified her? No, no he wouldn't see it as stupidity. Because it wasn't.

An accident maybe, but with the potential to be the best he had ever been a part of. Her terrified wide orbs stared into his; "Do… do you… want it?"

He _had_ expected the question, and yet, it still took him by surprise. _Was_ he even ready for something like this? They had known each other for less than a year, was a child too early? Maybe, but readiness wasn't the question. The question was, did _he_ want a child?

_Am I ready for- do I want a child?_

The answer to that was surprisingly damned easy.

"I would love any child that's yours." He kissed her forehead again, holding her tightly; "I love you more than anything, Ash. I seriously love you to pieces."

"…pieces?" she half-sobbed, half-giggled in his arms, looking at him. Thomas shifted a bit, pulling her up into his lap. With the bionic arm, it was easy enough.

He gave her a sober, teary smile;

"Yep." He nodded, then kissed her lips softly; "_All_ the pieces."

She giggled, pressing her forehead into the crook of his neck. Breathing, just breathing for a long minute. Thomas closed his eyes, inhaling the familiar comfort of her scent as she breathed into his neck. While slightly terrified at the idea of a child, the immense responsibility first and foremost, at the same time, he felt that things were going to be alright.

"All of them?" she asked after a few minutes of silent tenderness. Thomas couldn't quite help the chuckle from rumbling through his chest, and he nodded;

"_All _of them." He said, then moved the hand from her back to rest on her abdomen; "I really do. All of them."

"I guess…" she sniffed wetly, then looked back up at him, lifting her face from his neck; "I guess it's okay then?"

"It's definitely okay." He agreed with a spreading smile; "I love you."

"Crap…" she muttered and looked down again. Before he could ask, she muttered again; "And here I was going around for days thinking you'd freak out, and I'm the one ending up a wreck instead. Typical."

"I really don't think you can label this with 'typical', Ash." He gently rubbed her fingertips, seeing it as the most natural thing in the world; "I'd maybe choose 'great' or 'awesome', but hey, that's just me."

"Thom…" she muttered softly; What's… this going to mean, for us and… everything?"

He kissed her, instead of saying anything. The kiss lingered hotly and gave him a sense that she was slowly getting over the terror of pregnancy, or maybe the fright of him not wanting the child. In truth, there was pretty much nothing he wanted more.

It meant they would be starting a family. That they would _be_ a family.

He was going to be a dad.

Holy shit, was this actually happening?

"It'll mean what we make it mean." He spoke softly, his own words surprising him a little. It was one of those times where he spoke before he thought; "Are you okay?"

"Idiot…" she muttered into the soaked fabric of his shirt; "I just cried my eyes out after thinking you'd be aghast of me being pregnant. What do you _think_?"

"So…you're _not_ sick?" he grinned. Ashley snapped up and smacked him with her pillow, making his grin broaden even more.

"Jackass." She growled; "Why the hell do I even love you?"

"Because I'm your shining knight in armor, ready to take a missile to the face." He smiled.

"Oh God, I really _said_ that, didn't I?" Ashley groaned, burrowing her face in his chest; "Not my most eloquent moment, was it?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, causing her head to bop a bit; "but it's kinda funny to remember, you know, if you forget about the rest of that day."

"Now you're pushing it." She shoved him lightly in the chest; "Thomas, this is serious."

He kissed her lips again, silencing her. Withdrawing again, he looked her in the eyes and nodded. He knew perfectly well this was serious.

"I know. I know it's serious." He spoke slowly; "But, it's fantastic too. I think it's fantastic, I really do."

"…you're too much." She sighed, resting her forehead against his chin; "God…"

He smiled, hugging her neck and head against him;

"Yeah. We should probably thank him too."

"Now you're just cheesy." She muttered, snapping a finger on his short-cropped head.

"Can't help it." He chuckled, kissing her forehead, then her lips as he lowered his head a bit; "I'm gonna be a dad."

* * *

**Yep. I told ya, it was a big one. **


	26. She followed me home

**She followed me home, can I keep her?**

* * *

Galactic Republic

Coruscant, Republic Space

Jedi Temple, Hall of Judgment.

The Hall of Judgment was not at all big enough to warrant the term 'Hall', but rather it was more of a tall room, where the Jedi Council was seated in small balconies up above. Here, they were ready to render judgment over different cases concerned with the running of the Jedi Order.

Today, it was the trial of Ahsoka Tano.

Kasumi looked on from the shadows, lines of worry etched in her face. She _knew_ Ahsoka was innocent, had to be, but the evidence against her was just too much for the thief to do anything but what she already had done. When she had jumped after Ahsoka, the Togruta had more or less ordered her not to follow her. Kasumi, of course, had been very much _against_ that order, but Ahsoka had lost her, fled and left the hooded girl standing in an alley.

After that, she had been forced to return to the Jedi Temple, hoping for Barris Offee to have turned something new up. As it turned out, Barris _had_ found something. Apparently, she had found out where the bombs had been fabricated, and told Ahsoka. Kasumi had hugged the girl out of relief, and went to meet up with her friend at the abandoned factory…

Only, when she got there, Ahsoka was being arrested by a squad of clones, and Skywalker was leading them. From that point on, the day had been an emotional rollercoaster, which in itself had been the understatement of the decade, at the very least.

Now, she was looking on, watching as Ahsoka and Anakin pleaded their case. Both looked equally distraught, though in different ways. While Ahsoka looked absolutely _broken_ by the sheer mistrust and judging stares leveled on her by the Council, bar Kenobi, Anakin looked like he could have force-choked a kitten.

Which meant he had to be _very_ annoyed.

"Wait a minute, you've already decided, haven't you?!" Kasumi's dark thoughts were broken by the very same Jedi's exclamation. She looked up, and saw the regretful face of Kenobi as he looked down on his former padawan; "This meeting is just a formality!"

That _had_ to be a lie. Kasumi couldn't believe that an order as righteous as the Jedi could do something like that. It was dirty, that's what it was. And yet, she could see the truth in all those sitting in the balconies.

It _wasn't_ a lie…

"…Reached a decision, we have. Though not in total agreement, are we." Yoda nodded, his somber voice holding regret, but not much of it.

"It is the Council's opinion, that Padawan Tano has committed sedition against the Republic" Mace Windu said, _not_ sounding at all like he regretted it. Stuffed bastard; "And thus, she will be expelled from the Jedi Order."

"No!" Kasumi held her hands over her mouth almost as instantaneously as the words left her mouth. Yet, the focus didn't even dip in her direction.

"You can't do this!" Anakin shouted, running forwards. The hooded Guardians immediately stopped him.

"Your padawan status will be stripped from you." The Jedi with the high face, Mundi, said; "and you shall forfeit all ranks an privileges in the Grand Army of the Republic. You will be turned over to the Republic for trial, and whatever sentence they may set for you."

No, no, no, no! They couldn't do this to her! They couldn't throw Ahsoka out of her home! Kasumi wanted to take a bat and bludgeon the whole room, just until they saw reason. Or stars. Stars would work too, because then she could smuggle Ahsoka out of there.

"Henceforth, you are barred, from the Jedi Order." Mundi's final words made Ahsoka shiver visibly, as if someone had just pulled the rug from under her feet. Kasumi felt like her heart was going to break for the poor girl.

What the Hell was going to happen to her now? Even if the Republic trial worked out and _didn't _sentence her with something like, life-time or, Heavens forbid, death, Ahsoka was now homeless.

Kasumi would let that stand. _Couldn't_ let that stand.

But…what the hell could she do?

Other than watch as the Jedi Guardians took Ahsoka by the shoulder, not gently, and took her from the room, followed by a brooding Anakin. Kasumi pressed her eyes shut, and sank back into the shadows. She _had_ to find a way to clear Ahsoka's name, but how? Barris' trail hadn't granted anything, and even though Ahsoka insisted that a person named 'Ventress' was behind it all, the Council hadn't believed her.

Outside the Temple again, Kasumi slumped on a bench, trying not to annoy the human businessman already sitting there. Just because the law was being a douche didn't mean she had to be the same to a completely random person. So instead, she just sighed and leaned her head back, craning her neck as she looked at the spires of the Temple.

The Temple, once so beautiful and serene, was now cloaked in the air of hostility. Kasumi shivered a bit, seeing now only closed gates and unfriendly stares where she had once seen wisdom and open arms. Vehicles still flew past, as if nothing had happened, and it annoyed her to no end.

"Having a bad day, ma'am ambassador?"

Surprisingly, the voice came from the businessman next to her. He was looking at one of those datapads, not much of a smile on his face. His attire was somewhat outdated, much akin to what Thomas had worn the first time she had seen him, just more classy. Actually, the man could have fitted in perfectly in a twenty-first century flick.

"Sort of…Sorry if I disturbed your reading." She looked ahead again, trying to imagine what would soon happen in the domed Senate-building so far away. If that was even where the trial would be held. Probably not.

"Not at all." He said, his tone friendly enough; "I was actually hoping to see you."

That, made her look at him. Because that request was about the last she had imagined to hear today. Strangers wanting to meet with her, wearing archaic clothes, unshaved stubbles all over…over…over…Oh God.

"I…I know you." She stammered, feeling her breath stolen away.

If Impossibility was personified, the man next to her would definitely be the very spitting image of it. He was the same man who had approached her while she was doing a heist in Francis Grummand's vault, so many months ago. She couldn't remember his name, but she damn well remembered his importance.

"I suppose you do, considering I _gave_ you the very means to be here." The man said; "Which is also my intention today."

"Come again?" she did a double-take at the man, blinking at him like it was a new alien she was looking at.

"My company has developed an update to the Jump-Code I gave you back then, and considering what is at stake, we have decided to hand you the update, scot-free." He said, pulling back his long-armed sleeve. Beneath it was an Omnitool, just as her own.

"…what?" she stammered; "What…kind of update?"

"Simply put, the original Jump-Code allowed just you to tear the fabric of space and time, while the Jump-Code mk.2 will allow you to bring whatever your skin touches as well." He spoke even as his Omnitool bypassed her firewalls in mere seconds, then transferred a program that more or less made her gadget go spastic for a moment, glowing a bright red. When it shifted back to the normal orange, she looked at the man again; "So, make sure not to walk barefoot on the street unless you want to rip the whole planet with you."

"I…" Kasumi stammered, looking down at her tool. The display was alive with codes, one's and zero's dancing about like she'd been given the latest super-virus; "I mean…tha-"

She looked up, and saw that he was gone. Not as in leaving, but completely gone. There was no trace of him, not even the smell of a space-ship having picked him up while she wasn't looking. Weird.

Was he _Batman_?

Then it struck her. If this would let her take things _with_ her, then… Suddenly, the whole mess looked a lot brighter.

The next day, in the Republic Prison, Kasumi managed to catch up to Anakin and Padme, the latter sending her a grateful smile, as they went to offer Ahsoka some measure of moral support. Padme, Kasumi had learned, would be Ahsoka's lawyer in the trial. Good, she would need as much help as possible if the trial was to go in her favor. Someone who knew all the loopholes of law and politics. Someone who knew how to play dirty with the big boys.

And who better than a senator?

Instead of going inside the cell with them though, Kasumi stopped at the door.

"Do you want to come with us?" Padme asked her, having noticed Kasumi's stopping. Anakin seemed like he wouldn't mind either way. His primary concern was Ahsoka, for which Kasumi was grateful. She needed him right now.

"I think… it's best if the two of you go in first." She said, watching Anakin go inside first; "I'll wait and let Skywalker have some time with Ahsoka before I come in. the last time I spoke to Ahsoka… she might think I believe the charges…"

Padme's eyes gained a tone of sadness, as well as understanding.

"I understand." She didn't say more, and then followed Anakin into the cell. Kasumi sighed and slumped against the wall, listening to Padme and Anakin doing their level best at cheering Ahsoka up. Ventress was brought up again, with Ahsoka describing the woman's red lightsabers, and how she would be able to recognize them anywhere.

Apparently, all Jedi had different weapon. Curious.

It didn't take long before Anakin suddenly declared that the best way to clear Ahsoka's name would be to go out and beat up Ventress. Well, he didn't use _those_ words, but the meaning was clear enough. When he stormed out of the room, Kasumi saw that as her cue to enter. Besides, Padme would likely be more agreeable to her plan.

"So, forgive me if I'm not optimistic…" Ahsoka muttered. Kasumi stopped, waiting for the Togruta girl to realize she was there too. Ahsoka's eyes widened a bit, something in them that Kasumi couldn't identify. The determination was gone, replaced by resignation; "…Kasumi?"

"Hey girl." She gave a small wave. It was starting to feel awkward as she stood there, so Kasumi invited herself onto the seat on the opposite side of Padme.

"What are you doing here?" the question didn't hold anything but sad curiosity, and a bit of hesitant optimism. Kasumi preferred the last part. It would serve Ahsoka better if she was optimistic. And, just to make sure Ahsoka knew Kasumi was there as her friend, and believed in her, she hugged the alien girl ever so fiercely.

"Saving the day, naturally." She gave Ahsoka and Padme both a confident smile, seeing as the Senator hadn't been led in on her plan yet; "I do that a lot these days."

"Do you have any new evidence we can use for the trial?" Padme asked, her voice holding a fresh tangent of hopefulness. Kasumi shook her head slowly, looking at Ahsoka so as to not have to see the hope leave Padme's eyes.

"Sorry, no…" she said; "It's more of a failsafe, in case the trial goes completely bonkers."

"Could you explain that one a bit?" Padme said, pointedly looking past the very _idea_ that anything but justice would come to pass. Ahsoka remained quiet.

"It's a bit tricky, but to put it simply, I have recently gotten my hands on an update to my method of getting between work and home." At the maybe-dawning realization on their faces, she continued; "If everything goes down the drain, and the Republic sentences you to… you know, just in case they do, I have an escape-route planned."

"To your galaxy?" Padme was the first to speak; "But… how?"

Kasumi lit up the room with her Omnitool at that. Eyes were widened slightly, as they often were at the sight of foreign technology.

"Honey, even I have no idea how it works." she held the tool up; "but I can teleport whatever my skin touches, and bring it with me. In theory, I could bring Ahsoka with me." She looked at Ahsoka; "It will be safe there, and you won't be lacking a job."

"But… the Republic, the Temple, this is my home…" Ahsoka argued, though not with a lot of fire. Not, with the fire she always spoke with when arguing for her beliefs.

"Girl, you only have to consider my proposal _if_ the trial screws up and finds you guilty." Kasumi placed a calming hand on Ahsoka's bare shoulder; "If they don't, and if the Order takes you back, there's no need to leave."

"But, Kasumi, if you did this, and the Republic found out…" Padme spoke quietly; "There's no way they would let you return."

Silence reigned in the room for minutes, Kasumi looking at her knees as the realization of Padme's words sank in. she hadn't even considered that risk. Damn. Still, Ahsoka's life was worth more than Kasumi's brief political career.

"They can get another ambassador then." She put on a toothy smile; "I was never even meant to be ambassador anyway. The spotlight isn't my sortie."

"Let's just hope the trial goes well, then." Padme said; "I'd rather not never see you again, Kasumi."

"Yeah, me neither, too, I… you know what I mean." Kasumi nodded sheepishly.

This was going to be one hell of a day, and so was the next one. She just knew it.

* * *

March 11th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Gymnasium, Civilian sector.

The gymnasium was one of dozens spread throughout Arcturus, most of them closely together in the civilian or the recreational sector, right next to the swimming stations. It was a matter of pride that while the Citadel lacked the ability to have large pools of water for anything but the most expensive areas, like the Presidium, the Human Alliance could share it out to just about anyone who wanted a bath now and then. The amounts of basins was almost the same as the gymnasiums, and for the obvious reason as well.

This particular gymnasium currently had a man, bald and heavily muscled, straining the weights to the highest amount one could put on the bar before it would bend. Of course, it gathered quite a few onlookers, most of them female.

"You seem to have quite the audience, John." His companion chided in his ear-piece; "Should I be jealous?"

John-117 didn't immediately respond, instead pushing the steel bar and its eighty extra kilos up, then down before he closed his eyes and sighed, holding the weights in place.

"No." simply put, he didn't care about the numerous women watching him like wolves would a piece of mutton. Mainly because he had been drilled from such a young age that the very concept of hormone-driven interaction had been forced out with the sweat and blood.

A few of them were more…showcasing, than others. Civilians, John thought with a wry musing. They had obviously never been forced to stare down alien invasions, mutations or the horrors of the Flood, seen a glassing up close, or seen their entire squad slaughtered.

In a way, he envied them that.

"So, have you been giving some thought to my idea?" Cortana asked, bringing him from the ponderings of what a civilian life held.

"I have." And as opposed to the time she had asked him about whether or not he had been looking through the dossiers, this time, he _had_ been doing some work.

After the mission to the ice-world, Alchera, he had been reviewing his helmet-feed to seek out clues, better his own understanding of both his allies and obviously unknown enemies, as well as testing out different simulations that might or might not help in future conflicts with these 'Collectors', as Service Chief Fisher had dubbed them.

Fisher, was something else. John had at first believed that the youth was nothing but a child, advanced by the good graces of his aunt's power. And yet, when he had seen him expose himself to obviously suicidal fire, there was a small spark of respect growing for the younger soldier.

John knew Fisher didn't seem to like him, and he pretty much understood the reason as well. At least, Cortana agreed that the cause of dislike stemmed from his name, which was similar to the team's former commander, John'Shepard. Maybe this was for the same reason that corporal Adrian Dwaine Shepard's last name had been erased. Still, John could respect a good soldier when he found one, and he understood why Fisher was where he was.

Cortana had gathered what he had missed, and compiled a record for the young man from what they knew. Fisher had been killed in the place he came from, and then ended up here, same way as the Admiral. That meant the young man had lost everything he knew, and still found purpose to carry on. Most would have cracked, but it was also obvious _what_ had made Fisher carry on. He had something, and someone, to fight for. People around him kept him sane, and companionship with Williams was clearly a large part of it.

The powers the young man had displayed on Alchera were something else too. Unexpected. John had almost stopped firing when he had seen green flames envelop the chief, and his eyes had widened when Aquila had ripped apart the planets surface with her bare hands. Not even the Brute's could have done something like that.

"And?"

"It seems that we underestimated the potential in the team." John said, ignoring the looks he got from others. He _was_ clad in his issued clothing, so it wasn't like he was displaying anything. It was probably his sheer size that made them stare; "Each seem to be a formidable soldier so far, if somewhat unprofessional."

"Yeah, we need to give them that, at least, don't we?" Cortana's voice held a little amusement; "After all, we wouldn't have survived the mission if it hadn't been for Aquila's abilities, and I'm sorry to say it, but I think you would have met your match against that thing Fisher fought."

"Unlikely."

"I don't know, seemed like the only thing stopping those spikes from tearing him a new one was the flames." Cortana said; "You, don't have flames."

"I have shields."

"Shields only stop things travelling at high enough velocities, John." Cortana argued, causing John to frown. Damn, he hadn't thought about that. Usually, nothing but bullets and plasma came at him, and they all came at that 'certain velocity'. Had he gotten complacent? Unlikely, but underestimation of the enemy was as big a mistake as underestimation of one's allies.

"True." He gave her that much.

His companion left him in relative silence, humming quietly, while he resumed his weight-lifting. It wasn't until sweat was running down his face that Cortana broke off her relative silence and spoke again.

"Their Captain is something else, too, you know." She said, sounding like she didn't feel threatened by the fierce redhead. John knew her better than that though. Cortana had her tells.

"That seems to be the case, yes." He agreed, pumping his biceps again. The weights were starting to strain on him, but then again, he _had_ been at it for half an hour, at least. His mind, from Cortana's question, went to Captain Jane Shepard. True, she _was_ quite something. He wasn't sure what, but she had an air about her that rivaled that of Lasky or Palmer. Commanding aura, yes, but it was more than just that.

"So, what do you think about her?"

"She seems a capable leader, and holds her own." He stated. Cortana's obvious anxiety with him around other women was rather amusing, if only because he would never want anyone but _her_ with him. It just didn't make sense to change what worked so well.

"Right, yeah. She does." Cortana muttered, causing a small smile to break John's otherwise passive façade; "I can see you on the surveillance cameras, John. What's so funny?"

"Your assumptions that Shepard has the slightest of unprofessional interest from my side." He said, grunting with a bit of effort as he lifted the weights again, his massive biceps playing beneath his skin. His augmented sense of hearing caught the heavy breathing from the women nearby. Again, _Civilians_.

"I assumed no such thing." She replied indignantly, huffing even at that.

"If you say so."

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Office of Admiral Anna Fisher

15:22

"So, how's it coming along with Warlock?"

"_Mister Vera seemed…astonished, to put it mildly_, _when he saw the full scale of the project."_

"And?"

"_After his initial surprise, he has so far proven a valuable asset with the development of the VI-system for the module…__**after**__ Cole's people picked his jaw up from the floor."_

Anna grinned at that, imagining Gilbert's expression when he saw what Cole's team had managed to carry out, as well as the latest field-footage from Alchera. While the events taking place on that planet had been completely unprecedented, unplanned for and dangerous, they had also turned out to be the best demonstration of Subject Aquila's abilities.

Anna had held back an ecstatic squeal when she saw the wave of rocky spikes shoot out from where Aquila had pounded the ground. That woman, human in spite, was the very image of a Ground pounder, or as the Krogan preferred to be called officially, 'Thunderwalker'. Anna preferred the former, it sounded better in her ears.

Still, the revealing of this 'Rho' as an apparent leader of these Collectors, had been a not-so-awesome surprise. First of all, it meant the Reapers were most likely in control of the Collectors, and it meant they had a personal grudge against the taskforce. Bugger.

"And? You're not pissed about this?"

"_To be honest I did not think it possible to mirror the abilities I accidentally passed down to Aquila, and somewhat accidentally to Thomas." _Roku's visage replied. As it was a digital connection, he appeared not as a geth, but instead an old, sage-like Asian man with a long, white beard, clad in archaic robes; _"Considering what is at stake though, I see only benefits from this succeeding. I will supervise it though, as your species was trusted with fire once, and wasted the potential you had."_

"Yes, yes, yada tada and all that." Anna muttered the latter words. Honestly, Roku's repeated warnings about 'wasteful conduct' were getting on her nerves; "How soon will I have a prototype ready for testing?"

"_Soon. I cannot say exactly, but yes, soon."_

"I'll take what I can get…" she sighed, downing a shot of whiskey; "Good work, Fisher out."

Leaning back, Anna sighed and pressed her eyes shut. God, her job was a pain in the butthole sometimes. First and foremost, it seemed like no matter _what_ kind of mission she sent Thomas on, anything from a repair-job on mining-ships, to planet-side investigations, trouble kept showing up with big guns or claws. It really was annoying, even _if_ it gave her brother some much-needed hardening.

"Price." She muttered, not even looking at the projection. There _was_ the sound of his visage popping up though, so she knew he was there, if only not physically…hmm… _physically_? Maybe he should get a mech body? Like Roku?

…Nah.

"Admiral?"

"How's the Paladin-program coming along?" she asked, opening just one eye a little, looking at the AI. Price was always in his military gear these days, as if he expected someone to start shooting at him. Silly, but she let it slide for what it was. Price pulled up some schematics before answering.

"It's going well. Manufacturers had little problems adjusting to the heavier armor, though some design-flaws had to be corrected. Currently, we're integrating the Turian Havoc-system into the armor, in order for the propulsion-systems to adjust properly to the increased weight of the kinetic warhammer. We already have prototypes of the armor itself ready, though the integration with N7-grade Omnitools is giving some…unexpected hurdles."

"Don't care. How soon is it done with?" She had full faith in Price's abilities to fix the problem on his own.

"If current progress continues, we only need another week to complete the armor _and_ the hammer as well. After that, large-scale production can begin in earnest."

"Get it done, we're back on a blank check." She let a small smirk escape; "Use whatever resources you need."

"Understood, Price out." The AI nodded, then vanished from sight. Anna, not wasting a moment, looked at the darkest corner of the office. She was old, she wasn't _deaf_.

"Alright Kasumi, what's happening in Andromeda?"

The shimmer of her favorite agent coming into visibility cast a brief light on the corner-sofa, revealing Kasumi in her usual attire, with a small cut on her cheek. Healed, of course, but still, what had the thief gotten herself into _now_?

"It seriously creeps me out when you and Thomas do that." Kasumi exhaled, jumping from her seat. She seemed troubled by something, that much was clear, so Anna held the bottle of whiskey towards her, silently offering a drink; "No thanks, I'm heading straight back after this."

Anna put the bottle back down;

"Okay, what's up?"

"Do you by any chance have room for an extra-galactic warrior of great skill?"

See, that was a question she had _not_ expected to hear from Kasumi. If anything, she had expected it from Thomas. Weird stuff always seemed to pop into existence around him. Like the xenomorphs, for example.

"I…suppose? Why, what's happened?" she gave Kasumi a scrutinizing look.

"Don't have time to explain, just know, I may or may not return with company." The thief-turned-ambassador poured out, not taking a single breath. Anna's brows twitched a bit with confusion. She gave the bottle of whiskey a tempted look;

"Company?" she asked. As no reply came, she looked back up.

Kasumi was gone, and the door was already sliding closed.

"The people I work with…" she sighed, took another look at the bottle, then shrugged and took a swig; "Oh, booze…only _you_ understand me…"

* * *

Galactic Republic

Coruscant, Republic Space

Republic Court

When Kasumi returned to Coruscant, she had found herself in the empty cell Ahsoka had been using, and let loose a string of bad words that she was glad the Padawan hadn't heard. Being in the cell had meant she had had to call up the boys for a quick transit to the Republic Courthouse.

And she had entered at the worst possible moment. Tarkin, the prosecutor, was laying down the picture of Ahsoka, who was standing alone on a hovering podium, that she was a manipulative servant of the Dark side. Padme bit on every chance at countering the man's arguments, and was actually doing quite a good job at it.

That was, until the trial ended.

Chancellor Palatine had stood, declaring half an hour for the jury to come to a decision. Kasumi, standing in the entrance to the same level the Jedi were all seated in, snuck past the many chairs until she stood behind Obi-Wan's. he man seemed troubled by the whole affair, which he damn well should be. Kasumi suspected he had been one of those against Ahsoka's banishment from the Order, so she did her best not to scowl when he finally noticed her.

"Ambassador, this is the Jedi seating." He muttered, sounding more like he was asking her why she was _here_ of all places, than if he wanted her gone.

"Had to make a trip home." She said quickly; "What did I miss?"

"Nothing you would want to see. Tarkin is relentless in his pursuit of getting Ahsoka sentenced." Kenobi said, scratching his beard; "Which is sad, seeing as Ahsoka is partly to credit for him being alive."

"He does look like a pouty-bag alright." She agreed, sending mean eyes to the prosecutor. He was the spitting image of one of those blood-sucking pestilences people called 'a lawyer', complete with haircut and uniform to boot; "Wait, where the Hell is Skywalker? Shouldn't he be here to, you know, _defend_ Ahsoka?"

"Anakin is… elsewhere, apparently." Obi-Wan said; "According to Ahsoka, he is out looking for the real killer. I just hope whatever he finds, will not be too late."

Kasumi didn't know how to reply to that, a "me too" just seemed out of place, like it was the wrong thing to say. She didn't know why. It just did. And so, she stepped backwards, leaning against the wall as she and the rest of the Court waited. Waited for the jury to return and make their decision known. God, she hoped Scarface got back soon.

"The members of the Court have come to a decision" she snapped to where the voice came from, an old-looking alien in blue robes. As the man sat back down, she looked to Obi-Wan for directions. The Jedi was now looking at the Chancellor, which she then did as well.

Palpatine was handed a small datapad by his blue assistant, gave it a quick look and then stood. Kasumi couldn't read his expression, and didn't even know if he personally was for or against Ahsoka being freed, so even if she _had _seen his expression, she would have had no idea what to make of it.

"Ahsoka Tano, by overwhelming majority-"

"Chancellor!" rarely had Kasumi liked Anakin's voice more than in the moment when he interrupted what seemed like a negative verdict. He marched into the courtroom, followed by a procession of those cloaked and masked Jedi Guardians, and with someone of smaller stature on the midst. She couldn't see who, but whoever it was, maybe Anakin had actually caught Ventress?

"I hope you have a good reason to interrupt the proceedings of this court, Master Skywalker." The chancellor said.

Kasumi suddenly recognized the person walking between the guardians, and became so confused she didn't even manage to register whatever was said after that. The world simply stopped making sense when Barris Offee stepped forward, apparently the real criminal.

Barris? _What_ was going on?

Barris delivered a small speech, of how the Jedi had all fallen to the Dark side, and thus all should be prosecuted with her. Kasumi just held beer breath, trying to see if maybe the hallucination would go away if she started seeing stars.

Turned out, the whole thing was real.

Wasn't that just a punch to the face?

Kasumi left the room, unable to watch the proceedings repeat themselves, and this time with a result that would not be interrupted in the final moment. Despite it all, Kasumi felt bad for Barris. Death penalty was no longer practiced on Earth for a reason. Barris was a murderer, true, but… God damn it, she was only a child!

"Ma'am?" Fox asked as she found the clones outside the entrance, waiting with the car; "How did it go?"

"Ahsoka wasn't the murderer…" she muttered, getting into the car. The clones were stunned into silence, though more by her tone than her words.

"But, isn't that a good thing?" Blast asked, taking the front seat; "So, it _was _Ventress, wasn't it?"

"No…" she sighed, closing her eyes as the car took off; "It was Barris Offee. Fox, to the Temple. I need to see at least _one_ happy ending today."

"Roger that, ma'am."

When the car arrived at the temple, Kasumi considered going inside to check on how things were going. As it turned out, Jedi proceedings worked fast. She had barely made it halfway up the stairs before she could see someone walking down them. Kasumi stopped and blinked in confusion as a teary Ahsoka walked towards her.

Had the Order still banished her? Even after she had been proven innocent? What a bunch of jerks.

"Ahsoka?" She said confused, stopping the girl with a lifted hand; "What's… did they take you back? Where are you going?"

Ahsoka's eyes were welling with tears. Oh God, they _had_ banished her again. Seriously, someone ought to go up there and kick their butts.

"I left the Order." The words came out so pained, Kasumi's heart more or less shattered on the spot. She didn't even register the world around her until Ahsoka spoke again; "Do…you still have that link back?"

"I…do, but Girl, why did you leave?" Kasumi just _didn't understand_. Wasn't the Order pretty much all Ahsoka _knew_?

"The Council didn't trust me. If _they_ didn't trust me, there is no way I can see myself, that I _want_ myself as a Jedi."

"But…I thought we won?"

"Staying here means I have to watch a person I once called a friend get executed by the Republic" the words were followed by a fresh tear rolling down her orange cheeks; "I can't stay. I'm not saying…forever, but…right now, I just need to be gone from here. Please?"

"I…" Kasumi started again, but deflated when she saw Ahsoka's eyes. Determination. Always determination. The girl didn't do anything half-assed, she had to give her that; "Are you sure? I can't guarantee you'll like my galaxy."

"Is the Dark side present there?" odd question, considering Kasumi only had a very vague idea of what the Dark Side even _was_.

"I…no, I don't think so."

"Then it'll be fine." The smallest of smiles creased Ahsoka's face; "_I'll_ be fine, okay?"

"…Okay." She nodded; "Is there anyone you need to speak to before we leave? Also, it _is_ very likely that the moment we return to Arcturus, my employer will shanghai you for the war-effort." Hell, maybe the old bat was going to toss Ahsoka in with the rest of the oddities under her command. It would be funny, she had to admit, if Ahsoka ended up serving with Thomas and his team-mates. Less likely things _had_ happened.

"She's the old woman in your recordings?" Kasumi nodded, as they neared the bottom of the stairs. Fox and the guys were looking on, probably unsure of what to make of the whole thing; "I think I'll look forward to meeting her then."

"Commander Tano." Fox greeted; "the boys and I never doubted you. And neither did the ambassador."

While that _was_ a lie, with him and his guys having doubted her at a point, Kasumi chose not to press on it. Wouldn't help anything.

"Thanks, but…I'm not a commander anymore, Fox." Ahsoka said; "I am leaving with Kasumi."

"Ma'am?" Fox looked at Kasumi, who sighed and gave him an apologetic smile.

"I'll see you guys later, okay? I'm bringing Ahsoka back to the Milky Way Galaxy with me, but I'll be back soon. Don't win your war without me there to buy the drinks, okay guys?"

"Right…Yes ma'am." Fox said, then looked at Ahsoka. His face was concealed behind his helmet, as always, and snapped to a salute; "Good luck, Commander. I hope you'll do well, wherever you end up."

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Office of Admiral Anna Fisher

19:21

Reviewing reports was usually a boring part of the job, but as directly superior officer, and director of Taskforce 'Aspect of Fire', Anna was in the role of going over everything that happened with her soldiers, including reading reports from each and every one of them.

Thomas' report contained the message that he was going to be a dad. _Nice_.

She considered calling him up, give him the usual and traditional 'congratulations you knocked up your girlfriend' speech, but given the time, he was most likely in the middle of either getting his ass drunk in a bar with the rest of the team, or he was physically going over the process that had led to Williams getting the preggers. Either way, a text would be better.

"_Hey Bro_

_Fucking damn, I knew there was a pair of balls in our family, but I didn't expect you-"_

Her typing was interrupted by the sound of space-time ripping itself apart within the confines of her office. Per instinct, Anna threw herself behind the desk and pulled out her sidearm, ready to shoot if the boogeyman came out of the shadows.

Impossibilities were sort of her habit to _make_ possible.

Instead, she heard what sounded like a pair of bodies hitting the floor, great song by the way, it had played to her wedding back then, and she snapped up and over the desk, aiming the gun at…

"Goto?" the thief was standing in her office, plain as day, with the _weirdest, orange and scantly clad_ Asari she had ever seen in her life, which was quite a lot indeed; "What. The. Fuck?"


	27. Test, Test Tano

**Alright, so let's continue straight off the bat. Kasumi only just now brought Ahsoka with her and both are now being held at gunpoint by a mildly surprised and majorly pissed Admiral.**

**Also, to preempt confusion as to the lack of bar-celebrations, Thomas and Ashley have, in fact, _not_ told anyone yet. As you might imagine, even the slightest chance that Lucia Madeline Williams finds out from anyone but them, would result in the unleashing of a monster even the Harbinger himself would dread. As such, no one will be informed until _after_ Ashley (wo)mans up to tell her mother.**

**Alright, let's continue the story :D **

* * *

**Test, Test, Tano**

* * *

March 11th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Office of Admiral Anna Fisher

20:03

"Goto!" Anna yelled, standing from behind her desk with gun in hand. She was doing her level best _not_ to stare at the humanoid alien, seeing as there was a pretty good chance _she_ was the company Kasumi had mentioned earlier. Still; "What. The. Fuck?!"

"Hey Anna." Kasumi replied cheery as you please, giving the older woman a happy-go-lucky wave.

"Have you ever fucking heard of an invention called the _door_?!"

"Jeez, I'm glad to see you too." Kasumi huffed. Anna felt tempted to shoot the ground between Kasumi's feet, just to prove a point, but relented when she noticed the startled expression on the orange alien's face. It was a girl, and a child even at that.

What the hell had that damn thief gotten into now?

"Kasumi, I'll _not_ shoot you in the foot, because I was in a good mood when you burst in…" she spoke slowly, a menacing tone creeping into her voice; "But…who, the flying fuck with a carrot up the ass, is _that_?"

"I am Ahsoka Tano, Je…_former_ Jedi Padawan of the Republic and the Jedi Order." The alien said, in fluent English at that too. Well shit, there was something you didn't see every day.

"…Wut?" Anna imagined her face would have made for a hilarious poster at that point, cat-mouthed and utterly confuddled. She knew what the Jedi Order was, the order of monk-like warriors she had seen on the few recordings Kasumi had returned with of them. Few were humans, but almost all had humanoid features. Hell, they even had a leprechaun in their midst, it had seemed.

What she did _not_ understand, was what the hell one of them was doing with Kasumi, why she was a _former_ Jedi, and _why the fuck she looked no older than seventeen?_

"Ahsoka got framed for some bad stuff, got cleared in the end and left the Jedi Order because they didn't trust her one bit." Kasumi explained, then looked at Ahsoka; "That about right?"

"Yes." Ahsoka said, looking down at her feet for but a moment. Anna took that moment to once more look at Ahsoka's dressing. In retrospect, she wasn't _scantly_ clad, she was just clad in a body-suit, much like what Kasumi was, just… showing a bit more skin. Also, a pair of strange metallic cylinders were clipped to Ahsoka's waist, most likely some sort of communicators, or maybe ammunition.

"And…why do you look like a seventeen year old? And what exactly _are_ you?" Anna had already holstered her gun again, where no man would think to look and she didn't care about the looks Ahsoka gave her upon it, but instead looked at both younger women with skepticism.

"Because I am seventeen?" Ahsoka said, confused to boot; "I am a Togruta."

"Right. Of course you are." Anna nodded, presenting the air that she knew perfectly well what a 'Togruta' was. She wasn't going to look dumb in front of Kasumi, the thief would never let her live it down; "So…why are you here?"

She folded her hands in an 'excellent' like a boss, waiting for an answer.

"Kasumi told me there would be a new home for me in service of your Alliance, and under you specifically." Ahsoka said, speaking with a maturity Anna honestly had not expected. Ahsoka just looked so damn _young_, but then again, Maelon, a Salarian whom Price had managed to coerce into some less-than-legal-by-Council-laws work, was what, fifteen?

"You know, you could put her with Shepard and the new taskforce?" Kasumi offered. Anna gave the younger woman the stink-eye to end all stink-eyes.

"I am not even going to want to know how _you_ know of the taskforce…" she grumbled, releasing the folded hands to rub her brows. Because honestly, if there was one thing Kasumi shared with all politicians alive, it was her inane ability to cause headaches. She looked back at Ahsoka; "But yes, I do have a certain group of special individuals working directly beneath me."

"An elite group?" Ahsoka offered, mostly as a question. Obviously.

"Yes, you could call them that, I suppose." Anna nodded; "Which beggars the question: what do _you_ have to offer that puts you above anyone else I have ever considered for the team?"

"I was near the end of my Padawan training, and I have served on battlefields since I was thirteen." Ahsoka stated, hands behind her back; "I am a Jedi, which in itself usually is convincing enough."

"Sadly, the term 'Jedi' is not familiar enough to me, Ahsoka." Anna gave the girl a stern look; "You'll have to be more specific."

"It's not?" Because that apparently seemed weird to the alien; "Jedi's are… how to put it, we're guardians more than warriors, but we lead the battles of the Republic and…_Shabuir_, I don't know _how_ to explain the Jedi…"

"Abilities, tech, training, that sort of thing." Anna listed off her fingers ;"I couldn't care less about your role in the affairs of the Republic. I care about _you_, and what _you_ can contribute with."

"Oh…Well…" Ahsoka said slowly, unhooking the cylinders from her waist. Anna gave her a raised brow for 'continue, I'm intrigued by your metal thingies'. Ahsoka activated _something_ on the cylinders, and with the hiss of dispersed air, a pair of emerald blades of apparent plasma grew from the cylinders, now revealed to be something of a pair of handles for the swords; "I am more than capable in the Shien-style use of lightsabers, and as a Jedi I was taught to use the Force."

"In English?" Anna said; "Aside from my brother's occasional 'may the Force be with you' jokes, the name doesn't ring a bell in that context… actually I should probably ask him what he knows… Never mind. The Force?"

"The Force surrounds and envelops us all." Ahsoka said, spreading her palm out towards one of the chairs. To Anna's surprise, there was no glow of biotics as the piece of furniture floated like in zero-G; "It is in all living beings and when those connected to the Force die, they become one with it."

"So…it's God, basically." Anna stated, not asking; "Alright, you've got some biotic-ish powers. Those are aplenty these days though. What did you say about the lightsabers?"

"I have been trained with their use since my initiation, when I was four. If possible, I would be more than happy to demonstrate."

"Mind if I see one of those things?" Anna held her hand out towards Ahsoka, expecting immediate compliance. Ahsoka looked hesitant for some reason, and held her weapons like they were the most precious things in her life; "I'll give it back again."

"…I guess." Ahsoka sighed, handing _one_ of the turned-off sabers over. Anna took it, turning the cylinder over in her hands. She made sure _not_ to activate it when looking at the energy-exhaust, and searched the thing for batteries. It had to have _some_ sort of power-feed, to maintain a plasma-blade like that.

"The blade, it's plasma?"

"Yes, the blade keeps it's shape through-"

"A force-containment field, yes… smart, same as the Ishimura mining-saw…" Anna cut Ahsoka off. If the Togruta was annoyed with it, she didn't let it show; "What powers this thing, by the way?"

"A power-cell located in the lower hilt. The energy is focused through Kaiburr-crystals, converting the used energy into the plasma that makes up the blade." Ahsoka explained. Her other lightsaber was currently hovering in the air, slowly disassembling itself as she spoke; "There's an insulator in the bottom to protect you from power-discharges."

"Huh." Anna said, then scratched her chin and looked at the cylinder in her hand, then the pieces floating in the air. Kasumi was looking mildly entertained at the show, hand cupping her chin; "That's pretty neat, I'll give you that much."

"I constructed them both myself when I completed my trials to become padawan."

"Well, that's what I'd call good craftsmanship for a… how old were you, eleven?"

"I was six when I constructed my first lightsaber, and eleven when I made this one. The style is a bit different on the latter one, as it resembles A…- my old Master's lightsaber." Ahsoka stuttered a bit, causing Anna to lift a brow and glance to Kasumi. The thief gave a short shake of her head, and Anna took that for what it was. She still let out a low whistle at the idea of a six-year old making something so advanced on her own.

"Okay, you're intelligent, I'll say that much." The old woman nodded, handing the weapon back. Ahsoka clipped them both to her belt; "So, tell me a bit about the use of these things?"

"It's… much like a regular blade in most regards. The lightsaber just cuts through pretty much anything, and it deflects certain projectiles, like blaster-fire."

"That does sound pretty good. The crystals are important to the making of them, I assume?" Ahsoka nodded; "Can they be produced synthetically from a sample?"

"Yes, but… where would you…" a bit of the orange color left Ahsoka's face, and her hand went to the cylinders, protectively; "No, no I-"

"Oh chill, will ya?" Anna brushed her off; "I'm not going to take _your_ weapons, for God's sake. One of my subordinates' got one from an antiquity-shop, dunno the hell _how_, I'll get the crystal from him if it's still there. If not, I still won't touch your weapons. Deal?"

Ahsoka breathed, visibly relieved.

"Deal. Thanks, Admiral."

"Okay, look." Anna folded her hands again; "I'm going to set up a few tests, just to see what skills you have. If possible, I'll arrange for a match with one of our strongest biotics, and a hand-to-hand to figure out your unarmed training. Ahsoka, let me put it plain, if that's okay with you?"

"Of course."

"I am the sole active head of the sole active preparation against an impending invasion of monsters so horrifying, many who know about them do their damn best to convince themselves it was all a nightmare. Whatever you may have faced, no matter how many battles you have fought, it _will_ pale in comparison to what you will face _if_ you get to work for me." Anna stated, looking into Ahsoka's eyes as the blue orbs widened in pace with the Admiral's words.

"Is it _that_ bad?"

"Before the current galactic society, thousands of cycles of extermination of all advanced organic life have been going on. I am determined to make sure that_ this_ galaxy, this time around, that we do not join the dust." Her voice rose, the determination and power that made her so famed was clear in her words; "I will not stand by and watch as thousands of years of human history gets turned to dust."

"Great, way to scare the absolute crap out of her." Kasumi muttered.

"I'm not afraid." Ahsoka retorted.

"You should be, though." Anna stated with a pointed finger; "I have a team of the best fighters the Alliance and beyond have to offer, some of them possessing abilities you would normally only find in movies. And _they_ are scared."

"I'm not scared." Ahsoka repeated. Anna nodded, smirking behind a curled palm;

"You will be. Oh, you _will_ be."

* * *

March 12th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Armory, Hangar D-5, Military section.

09:22

Lock.

Handle.

Stock.

Barrel.

Firing-chamber.

Jane's hands worked with drilled-in fluidity, working on their own thanks to years of working around the weapons of the Alliance Navy and Marines. She flipped the heat sink from its chamber, placed it on the table and then followed it up with the block of chipped-down tungsten.

It was a meditative exercise, and one she had insisted the rest of the team should partake in. Not as an order, but as a suggestion. It was something you could never do enough, no matter if you were a green recruit or a seasoned veteran.

The only one seemingly _enjoying_ it though, was Boss, as he stuffed cloth inside the chambers of his DC-17 blaster. Jane envied the weapon every so often, but remained with the guns she knew. If they happened to churn out a _plasma shotgun_ though, now that would be a different story entirely.

Tali would probably like something like that too, Jane mused. She wondered what had happened to the adorable Quarian girl. Descended into grief, most likely. She knew enough about Quarians that she suspected that to be the case, especially with how she had seemed tied to John.

Damn.

It was almost three months ago now. John hadn't been supposed to die, but Joker had fucked up. Jane's fingers tightened around the barrel of her rifle at the thought of the pilot. Much as she loved the way the pilot had his own sassy personality and skills, it could only be tied down to Jeff that John had died. The pilot had refused to leave the cockpit, that much she knew from the scattered comms heard she'd heard in the escape-pod, and as a result, John had died.

Fucking cripple, but damn it, she just _couldn't_ hate him. Especially because the man had spent nine out of ten waking hours since the crash in pretty much every place one could drink oneself to unconsciousness. It was _fairly_ obvious that he was wrecked with guilt.

"You've been doing that for long?"

"What?" She turned to face the voice, coming from private first class Nikolai Tengberg. Good man, or kid, depending on who you asked. He was barely above the very start of adulthood, and reminded her _far_ too much of Jenkins with his behavior and age, and already _far_ too much of Magnus, with his approach to combat.

"The military, I mean." He added sheepishly. Jane took a moment to watch him, cleaning the cycling-mechanism for the heat sinks in his _big _gun. He was going at it with both the intensity and amateur-ish method that betrayed a newcomer to the heavier weapons. She'd watched the difference often enough when he and Aquila were cleaning their guns. Odd, how that seemed to always land those two together.

"Since I was legally able to join up." Truthfully, she had joined at _sixteen_, lying herself two years older just to pass. To her credit, she _had_ looked like she was eighteen, and the biotics had made the recruitment-officer dismiss the very _notion_ that she might not be illegible for enrollment; "Why?"

"Just…you almost seem like…I don't know, like your hands are doing the whole thing without you really, like, _thinking_ about it." That, was a Jenkins-trait, she decided. He was sheepish and yet naïve in his questioning. Damn, but she had often lied awake, wrecked by the guilt of the first casualty under her command.

Apparently though, the guy who had preceded her and John _here_, had fucked up even worse, so there was that.

"Captain." She nearly jumped, spilling her disassembled shotgun all over the floor at the unexpected voice. The reason for this was that 117 had _not_ joined them for weapon-cleaning. _Fuck_, but a man his size wasn't supposed to be able to move _that quietly_.

"What?" she immediately regained her posture and snapped around to look at the man. He still seemed to consider it perfectly alright to hide his face behind that annoying visor, and frankly, Jane had given up on prodding him to come out of his shell. He wanted to take his time, by God, let him take his time.

"Admiral Fisher has sent word for us." He said, standing at ease. It was kinda awkward with how he was a good three feet taller than her. When Jane sighed and started lifting her hand to signal the rest to pack up and move, he clarified; "Just the two of us, ma'am. Service Chief Fisher is already at her office."

"What? Why?" she propped herself against the table, giving fuck in professional stance. She was _off duty_, which meant she could parade in a dress for all she wanted.

That Jane Shepard didn't _own_ a dress, didn't factor into it at all.

"We are to assist her in evaluating a prospective new member of the taskforce. I didn't receive any information beyond that." He said, the poster-boy of professionalism. God, but she felt it grate on her nerves that she behaved more like a machine than his own damned _AI_.

"Some day, she's going to have to give me a damn good insight in her thought-process…" Jane grumbled, pouring her pieces into the locker. She could sort it out later, and if they were called on something urgent, she'd at least have that excuse to snatch one of Boss' spare-rifles. He still carried Fixer's weapons, sentimental big softie as he was behind that armor.

"I have learned that high-ranking officers often work in mysterious ways." 117 offered as they took off through the corridors. Jane glanced at him, processing his words.

"Was that a joke?"

"Cortana believed I should try my hand at humor." He offered hesitantly. Dang, it almost made him sweet. In a weird way. But still; "I might be rusty at it though."

"Keep trying." She said, offering him a small smile despite herself. Maybe there _was_ a human behind that shell; "You'll get the hang of it."

"Yes ma'am." He nodded. _Oh boy…_

"117?" Jane said quietly as they walked the corridors, passing by several who gave them odd glances. One was Colonel Kun, a man who was said to be employed _directly_ under Admiral Fisher.

For some reason, he seemed _extremely_ anxious.

"Ma'am." 117 replied.

"When we're off-duty, just call me Shepard or Jane." She felt it had to be explained to him, otherwise he would probably stick to the 'ma'am to the day he died. Or she died. Didn't matter which.

"Yes ma'am."

"…John?" God, just _saying_ the name hurt her. Jane had to remind herself to the point of hammering it down with nails, that 'John' was a very common name; "We're off-duty _now_."

"…Understood, Shepard." He then said. While his tone was still _utterly_ devoid of anything but drilled-in professionalism, at least it was a start.

When they arrived at the office in question, ten minutes later, they found two things. The first was Thomas Fisher, standing like he had been frozen at the entrance to the office, his palm still touching and thus spamming the display that held the door open. His face was locked in both shock, surprise, horror and assorted other emotions Jane couldn't immediately discern. His mouth was also agape, jaw hanging like someone was jamming his mouth open with a crowbar.

"Fisher?" Jane asked, a pang of concern filling her at the sight.

"…Gggg….hhhhh…..hhhhhh….." was pretty much all she got from his, his eyes not even moving to look at her, instead focused on the inside of the office.

Oh shit, had someone _died_ again?

The second thing they found, was a similarly startled, yet this one more out of concern, orange alien girl, clad in a leather bodysuit, with what was either a weird head-dress, or some wicked biology crowning her face. Her _young_ face. Damn, what the _fuck_ was the Admiral doing now?

"What's…_what_ are you?" Jane found it prudent to ask, mostly to discern if the alien, and by the love of Jove, it was _definitely_ an alien, girl was hostile or friendly, and if she even _understood_ her.

"Is…he alright?" the girl asked, answering both her questions with one of her own; "He…I think he caught_ fire_ when I said hello…" there was the sound of a flushing toilet somewhere within the office.

Oh, this was going to be _rich_. As in Salomon's mines _rich_.

Jane snapped her fingers in front of Thomas. When that didn't work, she jabbed his short-cropped head with a leather-gloved finger. _That_, did the trick, though not as she had wanted.

Instead of wheezing, Thomas simply collapsed on the floor.

At that same moment, a door slid open inside the office, revealing Admiral Fisher, still wiping her hands on her trousers when she seemed to recognize her passed-out brother on the floor, and the alien girl standing rigid with confusion at her desk.

"...Yep." She sighed, walking over to where Thomas lay, seemingly ignoring what glances were shot at her. Especially from Jane, who was having trouble deciding whether to stare at the Admiral or the alien or Thomas on the floor; _"Perfect_ first impression, Thomas. You really nailed it..."

"Admiral…" Jane started, looking now between the Admiral and the alien girl; "What in God's name…" She shook her head; "There'd better be one _fucking_ good explanation for this, or I'm hitting the bar straight away."

Honestly though, she was kinda starting to consider if today had all just been one long drunk dream.

"I wish there was, Captain, but operative Goto dropped a special stray kitten off on my lap and then decided to flee before I could shoot her knees out…" the Admiral sighed. Jane frowned, trying to figure out if she meant the petite Japanese who had shown up with the original schematics for the phase-II suit.

"I'm not…what's a kitten?" the alien asked, confused, obviously. Hell, even Turians didn't know what a kitten was.

"A baby cat." Jane explained without even considering it. The girl seemed to accept this for a moment, then asked a question Jane had _immediately_ known she would ask.

"What's a cat?"

"Interesting as the talk of kittens is…" Fisher, the conscious one, said; "Let's get to the matter at hand. First thing first…"

She opened her Omnitool and chose an option Jane realized wasn't exactly _nice_.

"Wakey, wakey…" there was something of a gleeful smirk that only siblings could get from this, as the Admiral sent a, mild albeit, overload into her brother.

"FAAAA-!" Thomas yelped, flying up as power similar to grapping an electric fence surged through him. His eyes found his sister before anything else; "_FUCK_ YOU ANNA WHAT THE-!"

His words once more seemed to give out when his eyes wandered and found the alien girl, still unnamed.

"Good, you're awake." The old woman said, ignoring the outburst that would have gotten basically any and all other living beings punched; "Now, I would like to introduce the newest prospective member of taskforce 'Aspect of Fire', Ahsoka Tano."

"Nice to meet you…" the slight hesitation in Ahsoka's voice was likely from Fisher fainting like a bitch when he saw her.

"Tano, this is Captain Jane Shepard, current leader of the taskforce." Anna Fisher said, gesturing at Jane to start with. She had expected as much, being the team's leader. So, why was 117 here?

"I hope to work with you, Captain." Ahsoka said, obviously not_ knowing_ what to say. Jane just nodded and offered the mandatory 'likewise'.

"This is Private John-117, newest member of the taskforce." So _that_ was why he was here too? To present the image of the newcomer not being the only FNG. Not dumb, she had to admit that much.

"I…you don't _look_ new." Ahsoka said, then quickly added; "like a recruit, I mean."

"I am not." was all he offered.

"And, this swooning asshat," the old woman continued, now gesturing at Fisher. Jane could imagine his continued shock, if _that_ insult hadn't registered with him; "is Service Chief Thomas Fisher."

"Sorry if I scared you." Ahsoka offered to him, extending a hand to the slightly older person; "I guess it's the first time you see a Togruta."

"…" Thomas _seemed_ like he wanted to say something, but all he managed was to weakly shake her hand in return. Jane caught the admiral sending her brother a pair of 'don't fucking faint now' eyes, but pretended not to.

"Well, now that _that_ has been taken care off." Anna Fisher rubbed her hands gleefully, then turned to the projector on her wall; "Price, has the sparring-room been cleared?"

While Jane remembered to have been told the Admiral had an AI as a personal assistant, she hadn't actually _seen_ the thing before now. Tali would definitely have flipped her shit and then flipped her _shotgun_ at the thing. 'Price' had the visage of a grizzled early-twenty-first century soldier, complete with sunhat and camouflaged cargo pants.

The _thud_ of a body hitting the floor made her look to the side, where Fisher had once again collapsed. They all shared a long look, 117 included, before the Captain without a word lifted him into a biotic field and carried him like a sack of potatoes. She waited just long enough for the Admiral to show the way, then walked to the sparring-room normally used by Fisher himself in his lessons with Roku.

"Is he okay?" Ahsoka asked, visibly concerned that she might have done _something_ to make Fisher collapse twice in as many minutes.

"That's just Thomas." Jane explained as they walked; "He tends to get a bit _too_ excited sometimes." Though to be honest, he hadn't collapsed like that in months. Maybe he _knew_ something about Ahsoka. Or, maybe he was just not that keen on suddenly finding an alien he'd never even heard of before, standing to join the team.

Who really knew _what_ went on in his mind?

"So…are you the one I'm supposed to fight?" Ahsoka asked after a few minutes of silent walking. Jane nearly dropped Thomas from his floating state. She had _not_ expected that, and shot the admiral a dirty look.

"Captain Shepard will be one of three to test your skills. 117 and…if he can actually stay conscious, Fisher will be the two others."

"Oh, this's going _straight_ in the journal…" Jane muttered. _Yep, entry 12/3/83: Met a completely new alien species today, proceeded with beating her up. Admiral's orders. Yeah, that one will be a great memory._

"I'm sorry, but…" Ahsoka hesitated, looking at Fisher. Jane smirked a bit, sensing the next words; "_is_ he really a…" She seemed to lack the right word. Not that Jane blamed her, not really. Currently, Thomas didn't exactly display the most intimidating of visages.

Then again, Ahsoka said she thought he had _'almost caught fire'_ when he saw her, so maybe she did have an inkling not to take Thomas on eye-value only.

"A good soldier?" Jane finished for her. Ahsoka nodded, apparently a bit ashamed at Jane having guessed her thoughts; "Tano, you will soon come to realize just _why_ the taskforce is named as it is."

Surprisingly, the Admiral didn't take that chance to offer a comment, instead remaining oddly silent, almost like she for once outside of battle was serious. Jane frowned a bit, getting worried that there was something to the deal she had missed out on. Then again, she hardly knew _anything_ about this deal, except that she was supposed to beat Tano up. Shame, the girl seemed friendly enough.

"Is he one of the people with a special ability?" Ahsoka asked after some minutes of awkward silence. Jane shifted a stare at the alien, silently ordering her to shut up about 'special powers' when out in public. It was bad enough that people were staring wide-eyed at Ahsoka the entire way. Jane felt like a tiger on exhibition.

"He is." She clipped out, voice low enough that others couldn't hear her. Couldn't get near them either, as 117 made up the rear; "We'll explain more when out of public eyes. For now, just try not to catch to much attention."

"I'm… catching attention?" Ahsoka sounded genuinely surprised; "But, I'm just walking."

"No one here have ever seen anything like you." Jane muttered lowly; "At best, they'll assumed you're the result of Fisher trying to genetically modify Asari."

"And… at worst?"

"Same thing." Jane clipped again, then turned her eyes forward once more, eyes fixated on Thomas. His unconscious form was luckily drawing so much attention, few people thought to look at Ahsoka before they had already passed.

As they arrived in the sparring room, the admiral turned to the side and shut the door after her, then shortly after appeared on the other side of the armored glass. Jane dropped Thomas in a heap, causing more than a few grunts from him as he seemed to awaken. Again.

"Alright," Fisher's voice came out through the speakers, clear as day; "We have a few tests to carry out today. Ahsoka Tano, place your weapons on the table to your right. Private John-117, same thing, table to your left."

Ahsoka hesitantly placed both her sabers on the table, while 117 placed his twin-carnifex's on his own table. Side-arms was all even high-ranking officers were allowed to carry while on the station, to make it easier for A-Sec to detain eventually unruly soldiers. Jane somehow wasn't surprised that 117 had stretched the rule like that. She had too.

"Alright, now…" there was a short pause as Fisher rummaged with something unseen on her side of the glass. The sound of a bottle-cap came through the speakers, and Anna came back into view with a Pepsi bottle; "Tano, your first test will concern pure martial skills. For this purpose, I want you to effectively incapacitate the private. The only rules for both of you, _no_ lethal or permanently crippling blows."

"Ma'am?" 117 asked, unsure apparently; "While I agree to testing her, Tano seems little more than a child. Causing damage will be difficult to avoid."

"You will agree to what I tell you to agree to, private." Anna's voice came out stern; "Tano, do you have anything to say against this match?"

"I've taken down bigger guys than you." Ahsoka smirked confidently, cracking her fists; "Do your worst."

Jane suddenly got the idea that this would be worth two things. One, was recording the whole thing. The second was to find a place to sit. She also had to consider what the Admiral could want from _her_, if 117 would be the physical test. If Ahsoka was a biotic, sure, then it would make sense, but far as she could see, Tano didn't have a biotic module in her neck. Or even traces of Eezo in the air around her.

"Well then." Anna had apparently gotten a similar idea, and was lounged on a pair of the chairs in observation; "Ready. Fight!"

117 remained where he stood for just about a single second, then leapt forward with a speed that completely contradicted his weight. Ahsoka nimbly sidestepped his landing, leaving the massive boots to smash into the floor, then dodged the jabs he sent at her. Again, with a seemingly fluid ease.

Damn, she was _good_.

Ahsoka jumped into the air, several meters at least, causing Jane to stare agape, then sent herself downwards with a velocity that would have broken even Jane's bones without actively blue-shifting. She landed on 117's shoulders with her hands and used him to vault on down behind him, then kicked back as she landed hands-first on the ground.

She didn't touch the hulking soldier, yet he was still launched forward, sliding and tumbling across the ground for several meters. While he managed to use the momentum to jump back up, the scraped floor clearly showed that he hadn't planned for _that_. A long, low whistle rang out from the observation-booth.

"Holy shit." Jane muttered to herself ;"How'd she do _that_. Wasn't biotic, I know that much."

"It's the Force." She snapped around at Thomas' voice. Shite, she'd forgotten he was awake again. Great, Ahsoka had successfully distracted the wrong person.

"Come again?"

"Ahsoka is a Jedi." He explained, propping himself up against her crate; "Jedi's got the Force, it's pretty much overpowered biotics, except they don't…fuck, I'm actually having this conversation…"

"You know her?" Jane felt she _had_ to ask. He'd known _her_ before she ever saw _him_, and he had known _about_ 117 before anything was explained. He had known Tequila the moment he'd met her, apparently. Jane couldn't remember, mainly because she'd been knocked out cold at that point. Thomas just _knew_ things, that was something she had to accept.

"Not personally…" he muttered, still sounding like he was trying to decide whether or not to re-greet the floor; "But… I know just about her entire service record."

Jane blinked, completely missing 117 tossing Ahsoka through the air like a sack of potatoes, only for the Togruta to arrest her own velocity, push off against a wall, ten feet up, and bolt straight into his heavily armored chest feet-first. Despite her size, the kick sent the man staggering several feet backwards, though he managed to keep from falling.

"What do you mean by that?"

"…Back in my time, she was part of a fictional story called 'Star Wars'…I never found out how it ended because I died before the series ended… Tequila knows more, I think."

"Fuck, Thomas…" Jane breathed; "Almost a year, and you can still surprise the living crap out of me…So, any opinion on her you mind sharing?"

"Yeah…" he muttered sheepishly, rubbing his neck as he watched the fight. It was obvious that 117 was pulling his punches. Good thing too, one of those could probably shatter a Krogan's skull-plate. Still, Ahsoka wasn't being given any openings, and her only advantage seemed to be her 'Force', as 117 turned out to be just as fast as her. Jane credited his augmentations. Every time she came at him, he either parried just about every punch and kick she sent at him, or managed to hold his ground against the invisible punches sent at him; "Don't let her get close. And be glad she's unarmed."

"I wonder who'll win that one…" Jane sighed, resigning to the fact that the fight seemed to drag out. Both fighters were in obvious peek conditions, with the stamina to boot.

"Fifty credits on Ahsoka." Thomas said, no hesitation at all. Jane snorted at that one. Ahsoka might be fast and she might be able to jump around and fling punches a lot, but 117 was a walking tank.

"Make that a hundred, and I'm on." She retorted. Easy money, definitely. Thomas had the weirdest grin on his face as he shook her hands, like the previous bouts of fainting never took place. He was _definitely _a big child sometimes; "Alright, hope you've got a chit on you."

Even as she spoke, Thomas just watched the fight. Ahsoka was flowing around 117, dodging every punch and kick he threw at her, while he in return parried and blocked most of her own. A few got through though, and each connecting punch seemed to stagger him, just a little. When Ahsoka stood still for just a moment too long, then leapt forwards, 117 grabbed her by the leg and swung her like a doll, then sent her flying at the wall. Hard.

When Ahsoka hit the wall, it was _not_ with a grunt or even scream of pain, nor the sound of bones breaking. It was simply a _thud_ as she grabbed onto the surface, and pulled a Spiderman. Jane blinked and stared at Ahsoka as the girl held onto the flat surface, effectively crouching vertically. Then the girl leapt down, keeping a few meters between herself and the hulking soldier, an irritated expression marring her face.

"Do you resign?" 117 asked calmly. He didn't sound tired in the least, whereas Ahsoka showed signs of exhaustion. She gave him a cocky smirk in return.

"Funny, I was just about to ask the same of you." She said; "I take it you _don't_ give up?"

117 didn't reply, instead breaking into a thundering sprint towards Ahsoka. Jane smiled for just a moment, then blinked when she noticed Ahsoka not moving to evade. What was she up to? For some reason, both her palms were outstretched towards the soldier, though no punches or pushes came.

When 117 was just _feet_ away from her, his momentum suddenly became arrested, and he floated in the air. Slowly, but surely, Ahsoka smiled as she lifted him higher and higher, up to the point where he was touching the ceiling.

"Well…_fuck_." Jane bit the words out, feeling Thomas smirk next to her. Son of a bitch, he'd known Ahsoka would do that, hadn't he?

"Do you give up?" she called to the soldier hanging high above her. When he refused to answer, she turned him upside-down; "How about now?"

When he still didn't reply, Ahsoka started bashing him into the ceiling, then the wall and the just sent him flying around for a few minutes, only occasionally stopping to ask for his surrender. Jane silently wondered if he had already thrown up in his helmet.

The "Force" was scary.

"117, Tano wins this match." The Admiral declared through the speakers; "Tano, put your opponent down and take five minutes. Shepard, you're up next."

"Damn…" Jane muttered, watching as Ahsoka slowly lowered 117, heads-up again, to the floor; "That was…unexpected."

"Captain?" Thomas asked next to her. Briefly keeping her attention at the Togruta, Jane shifted her eyes to him, giving him a 'what?' look; "That'll be a hundred credits."

"Remember I'm your boss." She growled, only for his smirk to enlarge.

"You can't pull rank in a bet, Shepard." He smirked even more. God, he was annoying sometimes. She actually looked forward to getting done with Tano, just to watch the girl wipe the floor with his sassy ass. Instead of offering _that_ line of thought though, she just pulled out a chit, dialed in the amount and smacked him in the face with it, leaving it to drop into his uniform; "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Careful." Even if he was in this test as important as her, she wouldn't let him get too smart with her. If he wanted to amuse a girl, he was damn well better suited with trying his luck with Williams.

After the short break, Jane sighed and got up from her crate, ready to dish and deal some proper asskicking. The main reason 117 had lost his fight was that he was completely open to gravitational attacks and manipulation. Jane, was not so much open to _that_ kind of shit.

"Captain Shepard, you will be permitted the use of biotics with all but permanently harmful effects." Admiral Fisher instructed from her side of the glass; "Tano, you will once more attempt to subdue your opponent."

Jane rolled her shoulders, stretching out as she walked to stand across from Ahsoka. She felt a bit of a guilty pleasure in the confidence that she could beat the girl, 'Force' or not. Jane was a certified biotic badass, she wasn't going to lose to Ahsoka.

Still, she wasn't so confident she wasn't aware of the risk.

"Are you prepared?" She asked Ahsoka; "I will not go as easy on you as 117."

"I am ready, Captain." Ahsoka replied, her voice professional and curtly. Huh.

"Well then, do you want to start?" Jane beckoned forth, feeling her skin pulsate with biotic energy beneath her casual clothes. Her hair was starting to stand, and the thinnest, most fait blue shimmer was skipping over her skin.

Ahsoka nodded, gave a short bow, and started running. Jane ground her feet, preparing to send the girl flying. The alien came close enough for something like a shotgun to smear her, then turned a sharp left and ran around her, circling like a predatory cat. Jane merely followed her with the eyes, waiting for Ahsoka to make the first lunge.

When it came, Jane pulsed with energy, reduced her own weight to nearly nil, then grabbed Ahsoka's kicking leg with a snapping fluidity that would make most stare. Jane though, used Ahsoka's own momentum to hurl her over her shoulder, then sent her flying even _faster_ with a biotic kick to the girl's side. She was careful not to kick the ribs too hard, but doubted that meant the kick didn't _hurt_.

"You'll have to do better than that." She taunted, feeling the adrenaline make her a bit unprofessional. She watched Ahsoka somersault as she hit the ground hard, somehow managing to _not_ break a bone from the toss. Good, the girl could still fight.

"Oh, I definitely am going to do better than that." Ahsoka retorted, then reached out with what Thomas called the 'Force'. Jane could suddenly feel herself losing contact with the ground, and soar upwards. So, that was how she wanted to play it?

Was it just her luck that Tano was standing stock-still while doing this?

"I am not seeing any improvements." Jane chuckled darkly, hummed with energy, and then reduced her mass to a raw negative. Impossible as it was once thought to be, she then used the negative mass to propel herself through the room, ripping apart Tano's control with her sheer speed before blue-shifting a _foot_ in front of the girl.

Ahsoka's face became a study of shock and pain as the displaced air hit her like an anvil on a shaft, swung like a bat into her body with full force. She was flung backwards, hitting the wall with a loud _bang_ of body on metal. Jane, as she came to a stop, couldn't help the slight wince.

_Maybe I overdid it a little…_

"Tano, are you capable of standing?" Jane asked, kneeling down by the slumped form.

In retrospect, she really needed to be less nice to her opponents.

Ahsoka's eyes snapped open, and her legs snapped up and planted themselves in Jane's chest. With a power amplified by that 'Force' of hers, the kick felt like being smacked down by a Matriarch. Having been once bitch-slapped by Benezia, Jane felt certified to make that comparison, even as she flew through the air.

Her impact with the floor was somewhat cushioned by her own subconscious biotics. Instead of weighing that of a human being, she landed with the weight of a football, bouncing across the floor instead of tumbling. _Fucking Hell! That's gonna be a bruise!_

Really though, it was her own fault for having underestimated Ahsoka. Still, no hard feelings, considering what the purpose of the fight was. Jane picked herself up from the floor, fixated her eyes on Ahsoka, and hurled herself forward, this time retaining her weight, flying foot-first. Just before she hit, Jane arrested her own velocity, locked her hands on the ground and somersaulted over Ahsoka's head. As she sailed above her, Jane flung a biotic punch at the girl's back, knocking Ahsoka forward.

Jane landed even as Ahsoka turned to return a punch of her own. Jane just didn't underestimate the girl enough to give her that chance, and swung both clenched fists downwards and then _ripped _the air upwards, creating a crackling shockwave that surged forward. The distorting gravity washed ahead, hitting Ahsoka head-on. The girl braced herself with some sort of shield, letting the biotic force splash over her defenses and dissipate. As Ahsoka lowered her crossed arms, Jane gave her a 'Surprise Girly!', following the shockwave up with blue-shifting right into Ahsoka's face. This time, she followed it up with a warping splash into the ground, causing the remnants of Ahsoka's shields to save her the burns, but nothing more.

The sheer gravitational forces hitting her head-on sent Ahsoka flying backwards, tumbling and rolling over the floor. When she came to a stop, the only movement she gave off was a weakly waving hand.

"I give, I give…" she called, a bit pathetically, though not that Jane blamed her. The Captain her been through months of hardship in the N7 program, served for years in the Alliance Marines and used some of the best biotic modules available to Alliance officers. Honestly, she would have been ashamed if Ahsoka, even with the fight she had put up, had won over her.

"You alright down there?" Jane asked, offering Ahsoka a hand. The alien girl took it, not even the slightest notion of trickery in her movements. Ahsoka grimaced in pain, wincing as she used her arm to take the offered hand. The shoulder seemed like it hurt quite a bit.

"…Ow."

"I'm sorry if I caused too much damage." Jane offered, helping Ahsoka stand; "Anything broken?"

"…No, no I don't think so." Ahsoka muttered, rolling the sore shoulder; "It's pretty sore though. The power you used just there, that wasn't the Force, was it?"

Jane blinked at the question, though it made sense if Ahsoka was really from another galaxy. It was likely she hadn't heard of biotics before.

"We call the power 'Biotics'. It's basically a sort of telekinesis, as well as being able to alter something's mass." She explained, walking slowly to allow Ahsoka to keep up unhindered; "I take it you don't have that where you come from."

"Nope, not really." The girl sighed, accepting the plastic-bottle Thomas, somewhat awkwardly if at that, tossed to her. Jane glanced at the service chief, contemplating how fighting him would test Ahsoka. then again, with what she had seen of the Collectors, maybe it wasn't that bad an idea.

"_Krosis_, Jane, you fucking wrecked-…" Thomas started, then trailed off as he seemed to realize Ahsoka was present; "I mean…damn, I don't think I've seen you actually _blue-shift_ before… Damn."

"Never really had the need for it with you around." Jane smirked at him. It was meant to be a bit of hidden credit to him, that he was actually capable enough that she didn't have to break the laws of physics like so many brick-walls; "But damn… it gives me a headache doing it."

"…A…Ahsoka, are you… okay?" the change in his voice was almost amusing, how he seemed nearly petrified in the presence of the young girl.

"Fine, I've taken worse." Jane notice she smiled at him; "Don't worry."

"Right, from Ventress…"he muttered, then slapped his hands over his mouth as he seemed to realize he'd said something wrong. Jane just saw how Ahsoka stopped and stared at him, utterly in shock._ Okay… what did I miss?_

"Kasumi already tell you?" the girl asked him, sounding more awkward than suspicious if anything. Thomas' eyes flickered to Jane's, then back to the alien, and nodded.

"So, it's the two of us next…" he changed the subject, then followed it up with that contemplative sigh of his that had more or less become his trademark; "Gods, I'm sorry if I end up burning you or anything."

"…Burning me?" Ahsoka's face was once more a study in confusion.

Jane, having caught her breath sufficiently from the fight, glanced between the two. Gods, sometimes Thomas was just such a child. She also decided to take a bit of pity on Ahsoka, seeing how she _had_ just kicked her orange butt.

"Thomas, why don't you just demonstrate and stop beating around the bush?" She asked sharply, exasperated at that too; "You'll be beating each other to a pulp at any rate soon, might as well spare her a heart-attack on top of it."

Thomas, for some reason, stared at Jane like she had just grown an extra head. His eyes were wide in horror.

"B-beat her- but I can't beat _Ahsoka_ to a- I mean, just _fuuuuuck_…" his stuttering didn't make a whole lot of sense. Actually, now that she pondered it, he _had _been a bit different these last few days.

"Just torch your sorry ass, Fisher." Jane interrupted him.

"Is something wrong?" 117 asked, curious as the human being he despite all was. Jane leveled a short stare at him, the stared at Thomas again.

"No, just Fisher here doesn't wanna go flame-o mode." She huffed.

"What?" Thomas shot out; "No, I- it's- Fine…"

Letting his hands dangle by his side, Thomas started taking deep breaths. As he was without helmet, Jane could follow the process as the third deep breath started causing thin, vague lines of green to emerge on his skin, like superficial veins of emerald. Each breath intensified the glow, until in the end, his skin was glowing brightly green from the intricate, Aztec-like patterns, and his eyes were blazing emerald.

"So, yeah, this is what I do…" he spread out his arms, indicating himself to Ahsoka; "It's a long story, but I'm basically the real-life version of a firebender."

"Bullshit, none of those movies had the bender _be_ on fire." Jane cut in; "'Sides, you're much more intimidating than Weyrloc Zucko."

Even ablaze, there was no mistaking the _flat_ look Thomas levied on her.

"I cannot even start making out all the messed up things about what you just- They made Zuko a fucking _Krogan_?!"

"Sure, everyone in that movie was a Krogan… God, but the love-scenes were mentally scarring." Jane muttered, then turned her attention back to the matter at hand; "Alright, just dose the fires. I think she gets the point."

Thomas extinguished himself, the green blaze vanishing as quickly as it had come, leaving only a smell of ozone as evidence that someone had just been on fire in there. All the while, there had been no sound from the Admiral. Turning, Jane saw to her annoyance, though sadly not great surprise, that the old hag had fallen asleep in the armchair she'd had hauled into the room.

"Typical…" She muttered, palming her forehead, then turned to Ahsoka; "Tano, so far I'm impressed with your potential. You held your ground and actually beat the man who beat _me_ in the spars, and you lasted longer against me than my old instructor did, even without being able to use biotics as we'd know them."

"Oh, I'm glad you liked beating me around like a doll." There was a certain amount of sassiness in Ahsoka's voice. Oh she did _definitely_ seem like the type for the team; "So… did I pass?"

"You haven't fought Fisher yet, so not yet, no. But continue like this, and you'll do just fine." She looked back at the sleeping Admiral (and was that a _fucking FORNAX _resting on her chest?) and shook her head. Amazing that the old crone was the most brilliant strategist in the Alliance, honestly the façade unnerved her a bit; "Seeing how the Admiral needs… her sleep, apparently, why don't we move the last test to tomorrow instead? It will also give you the night to recover."

Ahsoka nodded.

"Do you have a place to stay?" Jane asked, seeing how she had no idea just how long Ahsoka had been on the station. For all she knew, the girl had the same assigned type of apartment as 117.

The slightly ashamed expression on Ahsoka's face told otherwise.

"I…No, not really. I've only been here a day, and I spent the night on the Admirals couch." God, her embarrassment was adorable. Seventeen or not, she almost seemed like an innocent child at some points.

…Actually…

"Well then, I have a solution for that, as an apologize for bruising you in our match." Jane straightened herself a bit more, then looked at Thomas. He was idly rolling his chit between the knuckles of his fingers; "Fisher."

"Shepard?" he looked up, seemingly not bothered by having to wait another day with fighting Ahsoka.

"Until such a date that proper housing can be arranged for Prospective initiate Tano, I'm assigning you and Williams to house her." She grinned evilly at the way he fumbled and dropped the chit on the floor, face drained of color; "Oh, and that's an order, by the way."

Sometimes, she _loved_ her job.

* * *

**Yeah, Thomas is a MASSIVE Clone Wars fan, almost as much as he was with Mass Effect. So it stands to reason he'd be petrified t suddenly seeing a previously animated person suddenly standing before him. Suddenly so.**

**I can already tell the next chapter will be an interesting one, and what happens when Ahsoka notices a certain Colonel on the station?**


	28. Initiated

**Initiated**

* * *

March 12th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Apartment rented by Ashley M. Williams and Thomas V. Fisher

13:19

"Ash?" Thomas poked his head into the front entrance of their apartment, anxiety riding him like a… something. He was too concerned with the current situation to really come up with something good as an analogy. Metaphor. Whatever; "You home?"

"_What's wrong?_" Ahsoka whispered, standing by the wall next to him, notably outside the apartment and wearing a hooded cloak. Why Anna had one of _those_, as well as a Cat-woman leather-suit, he _really_ didn't want to know.

"In…the bedroom." Ashley's grunted reply came back.

"I have some… exciting news, and…ehm…" He called, trailing off meekly, gesturing for Ahsoka to follow him inside. The Togruta followed, the very image of silent walking. Gods, he was still reeling from _that_ revelation.

How in the flying multitude of _fucks_ had Anna suddenly dragged _Ahsoka_ _Tano_, Jedi Padawan and one of his childhood-idols, into this mess?

"What is it?" Ashley asked, stepping out into the hallway. Thomas felt his heart hammer into his throat, and promptly slammed a hand over Ahsoka's eyes. Ashley was only wearing very, _very_ little in the form of clothing, having the day off as she did. Also, he had sort of been called off just after another of their cuddling-sessions, which hadn't exactly called for being dressed.

"We have a…guest." He finished, flushing utterly red. He just hoped Ahsoka _hadn't_ seen her, or, at least not enough to reveal anything. _Fuck me with a hammer, what a START._

Not that he had needed to say anything. The mere moment Ashley had seen he wasn't alone, she had slammed the door closed to their bedroom, followed by the sound of her jumping around, most likely to find her pants.

"Please tell me you didn't see anything…" he whispered, neither looking at nor removing his hand from Ahsoka's eyes. She huffed, and if she was embarrassed, her skin-color hid it remarkably well.

"I saw nothing."

That rely came _a little_ too quickly.

"God-dammit Thomas!" Ashley shouted from behind the door; "God damned _tell_ me before I give half the station a show!"

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry, sorry…" as there was nothing else to do, he just bumped his forehead against the door, creating a hollow, metallic sound; "I didn't realize you'd still be…"

"Don't say it." There was a pause, broken only by Hispanic swearing as something was tossed across the bedroom; "Who is it, then?"

"…I don't think you know her…" really, what else_ could_ he say?

"_Her_?" her voice took on a sharp edge, just enough to be heard; "I'm listening."

"Can you just come out here, please?" he muttered into the door; "I really don't know how to explain this shit without you _seeing_ her…Pretty please?"

"Fine, I'll…be… right there." She muttered, and something sounding a lot like a pillow, hit the wall. Aside from a raised eyebrow, he dared not question aloud; "Done."

The door opened again, revealing Ashley, hair wild and betraying her surprise, wearing her uniform. Yeah, that had kinda been a fun night. _Who'd know the damn thing even _could_ be opened like that?_ Her surprise immediately returned when she noticed the "guest". Honestly though, he didn't feel like he could blame her.

"Thom…?" there was a very definite '_what the fuck'_ in her voice, and on her face.

"Please, Ash, Honey, Light of my Life, _don't_ freak out, okay?" Mainly because she looked like she very well might just freak out. Damn it, he knew she had issues with some of the aliens she actually _knew_ what were. Now he was practically tossing an entirely new species at her, just like that.

"Now I'm _definitely_ listening."

"Ash, meet Ahsoka Tano. Ahsoka, meet Ashley Williams…and…yeah…" hands rubbing his neck, he looked between the two, one a woman, one technically a child; "So…"

"Yeah, this is pretty awkward now…" Ahsoka said, trying obviously to sound cheery. Thomas snapped a stare at her, but knew she was right. That meant he couldn't _glare_ at her. _Fuck you Jane!_ He knew this was her way of getting back for him winning their bet, but damn if this wasn't just _unfair_.

"Okay, so…Ash, Ahsoka is…kinda from a galaxy far, far away…" he realized his own words the moment they left his mouth, and wanted nothing more but to bash his own brains out over the wall; "Do you remember when we met Boss and the others?"

"…Yes? They started pointing guns at us." Ashley huffed; "Why do…You've got to be kidding me…"

"I really wish I was." He sighed; "I don't know the how's of it, but one of Anna's agents brought her back here… and Shepard kinda ordered me to house her until something else could be found…"

"Here?!" she snapped, then calmed down. Obviously, she knew this wasn't helping, and instead looked at Ahsoka; "Why, if I may ask, did the Captain want you to stay here?"

"I'm considered for your team, but I still need to test-fight with…Thomas, before I can be initiated." Ahsoka explained, looking like she was pretty damn sorry about the whole mess; "I'm really sorry if I'm inconveniencing you guys, I wasn't asked about _where_ I…"

"Ah shit, don't be…" Ashley groaned and palmed her face; "I'm going to kill that woman one of these days…"

"Can't, she's a biotic, remember?" Thomas offered a cautious shrug; "So…"

"Right, sorry I went a bit pissed there…" Ashley ignored him and turned to Ahsoka; "I don't hold it against you, I really don't, and… yeah, I think we have a futon in the living-room."

"What's a… futon?"

"Sleeping-couch, essentially…" Thomas added, casting concerned eyes at Ashley. He really, _really_ hoped she was going to agree to this, and _not_ start making an issue of things. _Really, I wouldn't mind her beating the absolute crap out of Jane, but right now? Not what I need._

"Okay, let's just… figure this out." Ashley sighed, rubbing a pair of fingers on her brows; "Ahsoka, right? Okay, so I don't mind having you stay here. I'm just annoyed that Jane didn't even _think_ of asking us first…she _didn't_ ask, did she?"

That last one was aimed at Thomas.

"No. I think it's more or less her way of getting back at me." He rubbed his neck awkwardly; "You two are really just collateral damage."

Because that didn't sound stupid at all.

"Great. Okay, so…" Ashley beckoned for them both to follow as they entered the living-room; "Ahsoka, you have any stuff with you?"

"Only what I'm wearing." The Togruta replied, shrugging awkwardly; "I didn't exactly consider packing luggage when Kasumi brought us here."

"So, you only have…" She paused, eyes going to the form-filling brown bodysuit Ahsoka was wearing. Thomas had to admit, he was glad he wasn't into aliens, humanoid as they might be; "Right, Thomas, you mind getting a uniform from the closet? First one after the door."

When he returned with a spare uniform, because somehow all uniforms fitted both men and women, Ashley was in the middle of pulling out the futon from the couch. Deciding he'd better not say anything, there was a real chance that he was tempting fate somehow, he tossed the uniform, a complete set, on the couch without a word.

Yep, this was definitely going to be fun.

* * *

March 1th

Omega, Sahrabarik system

Blue Suns Compound, Western Perimeter barricades.

04:22

_Kracka!_

_Kracka!_

_Kracka!_

_Kracka! Kracka! __Kracka! Kracka!_

_Kracka!_

_Kracka!_

The feel of having a heavy bolter, an old-fashioned, Batarian-model mass driver in his hands, was just something that few things could truly compare to.

"More of them!"

"Nine O'clock!"

Magnus, seated in the fortified turret, stepped on the pedal and swung the turret's guns to the left, facing the oncoming Blood Pack horde. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of seemingly unending masses of Vorcha, varren and the occasional Krogan. All seemingly uncaring for the volleys of fire meeting them head-on.

_Kracka! Kracka! Kracka! Kracka! Kracka!_

He hadn't had the chance to actually tell _anyone_ about his newfound Hydrotelekinesis, as mere minutes after he left the bathroom, Blood Pack Vorcha had started throwing themselves at the barricades. Fucking vermin had a sense of timing, he had to give them that much.

_Kracka! Kracka! Kracka! Kracka! Kracka!_

The gun made its wrath manifest, barrels trembling under the unleashed barrage of heavy slugs. Magnus just made sure to keep his hands on the controls for it, and then made sure to aim it at the bad guys. The slugs, accelerated by the interior, if outdated, railguns in the barrels, more or less exploded when they impacted on the Vorchas' bodies. The foremost Vorcha had almost reached the trenches before the barricades, a bestial snarl on its face.

Said face then caved in and exploded when one of the slugs punched through its skull, spraying grey matter and skull-fragments backwards. The cretin itself was thrown back, its body hitting another of its comrades. Said comrade was then itself perforated by heavy fire, becoming a smear on the rusty walls.

"Get some, you ugly _FUCKS_!" he yelled, grinning with delight at the carnage. If there was one thing he really enjoyed about the Blood Pack, and there wasn't a whole lot, it was that they seemed to be satisfied with Zerg-rushing their opponents.

In other words, it was a giant turkey-shoot.

* * *

March 13th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Training room

12:00

Thomas, clad in fatigues, shuffled and shifted on his feet.

"Alright, you ready?"

He leveled a flat look at Jane, the Captain looking completely relaxed. She actually almost looked smug, most likely because she felt she was getting back at him for the whole 'bet' thing.

Really, how childish could the legendary Shepard be?

"You do know that this is likely a really bad idea?" he grumbled. He just didn't know how he was supposed to test Ahsoka without the risk of burning her. He hadn't exactly trained to be _non_-lethal.

"Yep. But we need to do it regardless." She shrugged; "Blame the old lady, not me."

"I do." He muttered, looking at his bare feet. It was better than looking at his opponent, anyway.

Ahsoka was looking at _him_, cracking her knuckles with something of an anticipating grin on her face. Okay, so he wasn't exactly looking forward to sparring with a _Jedi_. Could anyone really blame him for that one? At least Jane had her biotics, and 117 had his physical strength. Him? He had the ability to absolutely _burn_ everything to a cinder.

He very much wanted to _not_ burn Ahsoka to a cinder.

"…Okay, let's just get this over with." He sighed, rolling his shoulders, taking a deep breath; "Ahsoka, come at me when ready."

"Got it." She nodded, grinning ;"I'll try not to beat you up too bad."

He really wished _that_ was what he was worried about.

As Ahsoka started circling around him, most likely to get behind him in a blind angle, his breathing grew heavier and heavier, deeper and deeper. Thomas could feel the energy coursing through his body, through veins and channels previously unknown to established science. Each breath brought a new surge of adrenaline, a new surge of awareness and power.

When he was like this, calm and in control, his sense of reality was so much less distorted, the power felt… good. It wasn't rage, or aggressiveness. Just power, like a high.

Ahsoka came at him from the side, a kick aimed at his torso. The movement was slowed down, either by adrenaline or the Chi, he didn't know, and Thomas simply stepped backwards, avoiding the impact. Ahsoka hit the floor in a roll, coming back up with a speed like it had all been planned.

"Damn, you really look pissed off like that." She said, standing at a ready, fists raised. She then, before he had a chance to reply, came at him again, spinning around herself as fists and feet flew at him. Thomas forced his subconscious defenses down, _not_ wanting to scald or burn her skin. Instead, the barrier was just hot enough that Ahsoka hissed and winced from pain, having hit his arm where the skin was bared.

"I am not, no." he kept his voice in the normal tones, hands raised in the same kata Roku used when sparring. Ahsoka leapt at him, this time kicking him squarely in the chest; "_Ouf_!"

The kick sent him straight to the floor, clumsily tumbling a few meters backwards before coming to a stop. Even as he got to his feet, an invisible force caught him in the gut, punching him further along the floor.

"For-" he started, only for a new punch to hit him straight in the side. Losing his air, he was sent rolling across the floor; "-_Fucks_ sake!"

"Giving up?" Ahsoka smirked, lifting him from the ground. Oh how he _hated_ the Force. Why did people always fuck with gravity around him? Being a human torch sort of lost its awesomeness when half the people he encountered could just wrap some gravitational power around their fingertips and let that be the end of it.

"Stop using the Force, will-" he braced himself as another Force-push smacked him backwards; "-will you!?"

"Nope." She chuckled, and then slammed him down onto the floor again. Thomas' scorching barrier left a charred mark on the rubber-plates of the floor, inflammable as they were supposed to be.

"Fuck me…" he groaned, propping himself up; "Okay, you wanna play rough?" He pulled in a long breath, blazing aura casting a green glow on the nearest wall. He was _so_ done giving Ahsoka an easy treatment; "Let's play _rough_."

"What are you-" he interrupted the Togruta's question by flinging himself forward, running more than leaping really, and slammed blazing fists into the ground she had occupied only seconds earlier. The heat-resistant rubber melted in craters around his hands, and red gum dripped from his fists as he withdrew them from the floor; "-Damn!"

"You wanna use cheats?" he called out, louder than necessary. Ahsoka frowned, concern obvious in her eyes; "Fine, but don't say _I_ started with the metahuman shit."

"What did you just call-" he didn't give her time to finish that line either. It really was amazing how a single Force-slap was enough to rid him of any childlike wonder he'd felt at Ahsoka's appearance. Now she was just another addition to the crazy hell-slash-paradise that was his life. Also it made it easier for him to punch her.

While his bionic arm, at full power, could liquefy a human being's bones, he made sure it was only slightly above superhuman strength when fist met outstretched palm. Ahsoka obviously topped him in reflexes and speed, but he was above her in physical strength. And thank the Divines for that one, really. He very much doubted he'd have a chance if not.

Instead of breaking her wrist, not to mention every bone in her hand, Ahsoka was thrown back with a pained grunt, still managing to stagger Thomas' punch regardless. Recovering, he set into a run immediately, wanting to catch up and beat her down. _And yet…if I win, does that mean she _won't_ be joining the team? Shit, what's Anna playing at?_

His sister _not_ being there, of course because why should she attend her own tests, meant he couldn't really ask her. Thomas grunted as he took a full blow from a Force-blast, he assumed it was the name for it, and flung a ball of emerald fire at Ahsoka.

He only realized his overdoing of it when she only narrowly managed to _not_ get charred. While she evaded the fire itself, it was still close enough that her skin got the brunt of it.

"Watch it!" Thomas winced at the pain in her voice, having not wanted to actually cause her harm.

"_Shit_!" he didn't dare hope to continue the match: she was probably going to hate him if he pressed on while she was injured. Powering down, he closed his eyes and exhaled the last of the energy; "Ahsoka, are y-"

When he opened them, still talking, he was met by a boot to the chest. _Hard_. As in 'Hard enough to kick him across the room' hard.

The worst part of how the fight ended, was that when he was halfway passed out at the wall, he could just hear how Jane noted on being disappointed at him being defeated the same way _she_ almost was. With emphasis on the 'almost'.

_Yeah…just…rub it…in, why don't you?_

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Conference room D-5, Military Sector

16:20

"Team, gather up." Shepard ordered, calling to attention the soldiers standing around.

They were all gathered in one of the conference rooms belonging to the barracks of hangar D-5, the point of departure for the few previous of their trips out. Thomas leaned against the wall, nursing a bruised rib from where Ahsoka had hurled him into a wall. _Gods be damned, why did I even think I had a chance? Well, because she cheated, that's why!_

He still felt like Ahsoka had been cheating, but at least Shepard had told him straight after that, since Ahsoka had passed, they now had housing for her, meaning she would be moving straight out of their apartment. _And not a moment too soon. Gods it felt awkward that night_…

He also knew that the moment Ahsoka would enter the room, she was currently waiting outside and out of sight, Nikolai and Tequila would likely throw a fit worthy of a Rambo-movie. That, or they would both drop unconscious out of shock. At least the latter would mean he wouldn't be the only one having _that_ reaction.

"A new mission?" Tequila asked. When Shepard shook her head, the Service Chief seemed confused; "What then?"

"Today, we add a new member to the taskforce, and at the same time expand our membership across the borders of our galaxy" the Captain continued. Yeah, because that made _so_ much sense to anyone who didn't know about Ahsoka. _Hey, isn't that ignoring Boss?_

"Seriously?" Hillary exclaimed, her face brightening with excitement; "Fucking A, what's this about?"

"Three days ago, an operative of Admiral Fisher brought an individual across the distance of the Andromeda Galaxy to ours. For those of you who are _not_ in the know of this, the Alliance recently made sparse contact with a civilization centered in that galaxy." Thomas could tell that the gears were churning in the heads of those who had jumped dimensions. Himself, he was shivering like a giddy child. Shepard continued;

"Events which remain unknown, made it possible for aforementioned Operative to retrieve this individual and bring her to the Admiral's attention. These past two days have been spent with members of our team, working directly under the Admiral, testing this individual and found her sufficient in skill to be initiated in the taskforce."

"Some of us?" Hillary looked around; "Who?"

"Thomas, 117 and myself." Shepard counted off, then seemed to look at Nikolai, then Tequila and lastly Thomas; "Regardless of some of your opinions, I expect that your first impression of her is formed _here_ and _now_."

"Seriously, I'm getting the hype here." Hillary did a small jump, reminding Thomas most of all of a little girl on a sugar-rush; "Spill the beans, who's the new girl?"

Shepard looked at her, then looked at the team at large.

"As you may remember from our encounter on Alchera…" a short pause; "Our enemy seems content with fighting dirty. So, we as well must play dirty. As a result, our newest member possesses abilities none of us have ever seen before." _Except for me, Nick and Tequila that is…_

Silence roamed for a few seconds before she spoke again;

"Fisher, let her in."

Thomas took a deep breath, then palmed the interface for the door. On the other side, clad in the Alliance uniform she had been given by Ashley (because apparently his girlfriend didn't like the idea of Ahsoka walking around in a bodysuit), Ahsoka was waiting, eyes focused with a calm expression.

There was something of a proportionally wrong, muffled whine from the muscled Dane by the conference table when she stepped into the room. Even from the distance, Thomas could see his eyes widen, nostrils flare and the hair on his neck stand.

"I am Ahsoka Tano." The Togruta said, voice controlled and professional; "I look forward to working with you all."

The silence that roamed the room nearly killed him. Gods above, it was beyond awkward the way every single person in the room stared at the newest member. While Thomas was fixated on Nikolai and Tequila though, there was a third individual he soon mentally kicked himself for having forgotten.

"Commander Tano!" Boss exclaimed, his voice a mix of relief and confusion.

Ahsoka's expression was one of confusion, clearly, until she found the man who had spoken. Thomas watched her eyes widen at the sight of the Katarn-armor signifying the soldier as a Republic Commando. The only reason she hadn't noticed the rest of the team's armor yet, was fairly simple: bar 117 and Boss, no one wore armor at the meeting.

"You…you are a Commando?" Ahsoka exclaimed, her voice somewhere between a whisper and a declaration; "A Republic Commando of the GAR?"

"Yes ma'am, RC-1138, Boss of Delta Squad." He saluted her, seemingly oblivious to the stares turned at them both; "It's a relief to see you, ma'am."

"You two know each other?" Shepard asked, looking between them both.

That, was about all the time it took for a certain person to process the scene;

"Holy _Fuck_!" Surprisingly though, it was not Nikolai, but Tequila who had yelled; "It's- you're _Ahsoka_ _Tano_!"

"…I- Yes?"

"Holy fuck me sideways with a Lightsaber!"

"Aquila, remember what I just said?" Shepard reminded the Chief, a stern edge in her voice. Thomas just felt like palming his face and covering his ears. Sadly, doing both was not a simultaneous option.

"I- I-…Captain, this-" Teresa gestured at the Togruta; "She's a JEDI!"

"Yes, as Fisher established yesterday." The Captain nodded; "Now, if we can skip the seemingly mandatory fangasms?"

"But…I…" Tequila groaned and stuttered, still pointing at Ahsoka; "…_Fine_."

"Now, if we can actually proceed, I have received orders from command, concerning the publicity of this team's identities." Shepard gave the group, Ahsoka included, a long gaze, as if to ascertain if one of them was on the verge of another outburst.

"Are we gonna be celebrities?" Hillary asked, glee shining in her eyes.

Shepard shook her head;

"Quite the opposite in fact." She stated slowly, waiting for all eyes to rest undivided on her; "Command wants us all to take on call-signs to replace our actual identities when in the field. These call-signs _will_ be permanent, and you _will_ use them, regardless of topic of conversation or people around you. They will also be _given_ to you, so whatever 'Destroyer' or 'invincible'-like names you might have considered, you may as well give up on."

"Aww…" Hillary muttered, deflated out of whatever idea she had had; "I wanted to be the Cunt-Hammer…"

Well, that answered _that_ contemplation. And also threatened with giving Thomas some minor mental scars.

"I kinda think you just illustrated the 'why's of that one, Hill." Nikolai grinned. Hillary looked like she wanted to punch him for that one, but kept her retaliation to a glare.

Shepard leveled a chastising glare on her in return, like an exasperated parent, then looked back at the team. Thomas just thanked the Divines that no one had actually _fainted_ yet, as opposed to his own rather poor reactions the day before. But honestly, he was supposed to not only meet _the Fucking Ahsoka Tano_ in real life, but also stand more or less face to face with not just some AI with the name of Captain Price, but the actual AI 'Captain Price' himself, and both in less than two minutes time.

It wasn't strange he often felt stressed, was it?

Shepard glanced around the room before pulling up her Omnitool, making files pop into existence above her wrist. Thomas, naturally, peeked up at that.

"Call-signs are as follow: Shepard, _Aurora_. Boss, _Delta-1_. Williams, _Ghost_. Aquila, _Roca_. Fisher, _Demon_. Dwaine, _Viking_. Tengberg, _Nord_. Pennyloafer, _Eve._ 117, _Wolf_. Tano, _Monk_. These are your respective call-signs. They are non-negotiable, so learn them well. Before you ask the mandatory question: No, I had no involvement in the making of these names, nor do I know who did…" she declared, then muttered under her breath; "Because the Admiral's too fucking childish to come up with those names, definitely."

Demon.

Thomas tasted the word in his mind, mulling it over. Actually, it wasn't half-bad. Considering what people seemed to think of him when the gloves came off, it was actually rather fitting, in its own, disturbing manner. He then turned his mind towards the other names, even as the rest of the team started mulling their own over as well.

Shepard's was obvious, sort of. Aurora was probably a reference to the stars, and from that, a pointed finger at her biotics. Not bad, and the name itself held some authority as well.

Boss was an easy one to remember, sad as it was in retrospect. He was the leader of Delta, but also the only _one_ left if you counted Scorch out, which made up his name. Logic was a cold bitch, sometimes.

He wasn't quite sure what earned Ash the name 'Ghost', though there probably was another meaning to the word than 'spooky, invisible thing', he couldn't for the life of him imagine just what it was.

Tequila's was almost funny, if only because he understood Spanish. 'Roca' was the Spanish word for 'Rock', a hint to her being an Earthbender and all. Or, it might refer to her taste in music. On that note, Thomas realized he actually didn't know _what_ kind of music his colleague liked.

Dwaine was British, so obviously the name wasn't about his heritage. Rather, it was probably because of the planet they had encountered him on, Valhalla, that had brought up the name. Damn. Whomever had done the naming, had clearly been through their records.

Nikolai's was easy, if nothing else than because aside from being a Danish citizen, he was also Greenlandic by birth, which was just about as far north as you could get back then and still be within reach of civilization.

Hillary's though, that was a piece of cruel irony if ever there was one. To have her call-sign so obviously tied to Eden Prime, the place where all but two of her colleagues had died and she herself had been hospitalized for _months_, was just insensitive.

The call-sign to John-117 though, Thomas wasn't sure what to make of. There was nothing about the man calling 'Wolf' to mind, and there was not a single wolf-mark on his armor. Hell, even the armor's color was as far from 'wolfish' as you could get.

Ahsoka's was only obvious to those in the know of her past, so that one was actually quite smart. It allowed her something of a direct tie with her old order, while it would also definitely confuddle the absolute crap out of just about everyone else.

"Alright, I expect you all to remember your new call-signs, as well as those of your team-mates." Shepard called him back from contemplation; "I also expect you to behave like actual adults, and show your new team-mate that she is welcome here…God, I sound like a schoolteacher…Anyway, aside from Williams, dismissed."

* * *

"Captain?"

Jane nodded, silently asking the younger woman to step forward. As they were now alone in the room, she allowed herself the luxury of relaxing her stance and rest against the mid-room table.

"Williams." She stated flatly, looking at the Chief's face, looking for a trace of emotion, a clue as to her thoughts. Nothing. Williams was, as always, the image of professionalism; "Two things. First:"

She handed Williams the 'Ghost'-module. It was a bit bigger than the modules used for shields, but the shape itself was very much the same. Only the color-scheme, with the 'Ghost'-module being a strange silver as opposed to the usual green, was different.

"This is a 'Ghost' module. Insert it in your armor, and a distortion-field will sync in with your armor and weapons, anything acknowledged by your on-suit computer" Williams looked at the module, eyeing it with much the same contemplation that Jane had when presented with it just an hour earlier; "It draws on your power-charges though, so don't get shot at while using it, and discharging a weapon will break the distortion."

"Is this the reason for my call-sign?" Williams asked, a hint of hesitation in her voice.

"Yes. You are our best shot, and I need Aquila in a position to deal some damage up and close." She said, closing her eyes for a moment, breathing in the air. She then looked at the woman again, the tanned face a study of professionalism; "How are you feeling?"

"…Ma'am?" the façade of professionalism vanished, replaced with confusion.

"Before we left for Alchera, you looked like you'd just been told your family had died…I know you weren't sick, so…" She let the end hang in the air, waiting for her subordinate to reply.

"Thomas thought I was sick… how did you know?" for some reason, Ashley didn't meet her gaze. Curious.

"I grew up around faces of people who'd lost everything dear to them, and I saw you when we lost Thomas on the Citadel." She said, shrugging lightly; "It was emotional, that much was clear."

"…I'm… not sure what to say, Shepard." Huh. If she didn't know better, Jane would say that was the first time Ashley had used her name in private. Last name, but it still counted.

"Ashley…" Jane drew out the sigh following the name, waiting for her subordinate to, like always, request not to use her name. It didn't happen; "I know you and I didn't exactly have the best start, mainly my fault."

"Mine as well, I shouldn't have assaulted you." Well damn, maybe there _was_ something to the saying that you got what you gave, and Jane _did_ just give Ashley an admission of guilt. She decided to use that momentum;

"But… you are one of my soldiers, even if you and I both will likely always feel like that's John's role, fact is that we're stuck the way we are now." Damn, but there was a reason she _didn't _give date people she didn't fight with: she didn't know _how_ to talk to people who hadn't had her back; "And, being one of my soldiers, your health, mental and physical both, is important to me."

"I appreciate that." It didn't _sound_ like she did, though.

"So, do you feel like telling me what was the matter, or am I to consider it a matter you'd rather bring up with a psychologist?" she didn't mean it as a threat, rather a gesture of faith that she actually _wanted_ to help the Chief. Still, she could see in the flash of suspicion in the brown eyes, that it had been received as a threat; "I'm just concerned, Ashley."

"It's…rather private, Shepard." Was that _blushing_ on Ashley's face? Damn, now Jane was both concerned_ and_ curious.

"Is it a very _bad_ thing?" if someone in her immediate family had died, Jane didn't want to pry.

"Not…no, not really." Ashley muttered, fingers curling the edges of her uniform; "Captain, when… before you were sent here, from the other side, did you have a family?"

The word 'family' when spoken like that, caused a short flash of pain to go through Jane's mind. She was pretty sure it appeared on her face too, for Ashley seemed to regret the question almost as soon as it was beyond her lips.

"No." Jane pressed the dark word out, feeling like she was expelling muck from her mouth; "They all died on Mindoir when I was a child…Why?"

"Can you promise me that this will stay between the two of us?" Ashley pressed, staring straight into Jane's own eyes. Honestly, the younger woman had a piercing stare suitable for a person of a much higher rank; "It doesn't go beyond this room, and it will not change anything about our missions."

"…Acceptable." Jane nodded, facing the younger woman fully; "You have my word as an officer that I won't share it around."

Ashley nodded. She then took about the longest sigh Jane had ever heard in her life, and looked at the ground. Jane was silent for the moments it took the woman to look back up again.

"Thomas and I are having a child."

Well. Shit.

She had not seen that one coming.

* * *

March 17th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Office of Admiral Anna Fisher.

17:00

"We _need_ that treaty lifted, Admiral." Her guest argued. His white hair, square jaw and wrinkled eyes made him look like a beard-less Stephen Hackett; "the Patrols can't handle whatever is wiping us out, entire taskforces at a time."

"And you come to me, why?" Anna was, for once, behind her desk, hands flat on the table.

Tibus Heth, current Supreme Chairman of the Caldari Corporations, and as the head of the Alliance's part of the Spacelane Patrol, also the most powerful Chief of Police in the galaxy. True, his forces had been effective in filling the roles of the lackluster Turian patrols, but now his ships encountered resistance on an unexpected scale.

Now, he was in her office, demanding that the Alliance lifted the Hyperion-treaty. Said treaty was the list of rules and regulations _preventing_ the Spacelane Patrol from installing spinal main-guns in their vessels, as well as building ships beyond five-hundred meters in length.

"Because, I already talked to Shastri, who denied my request on the grounds that the supplied Alliance warships were more than sufficient to uplift the lack of firepower." There was a pause, the man taking a deep breath while veins were visible on his forehead; "That is _not_ the case."

Anna sighed, keeping the expression of irritation hidden, and pulled up the files Heth had supplied her with;

"Far as I can see, each of your patrols have been granted a pair of heavy cruisers…" she gestured for him to argue his case. Heth gripped the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Granted, yes, but half of those warships never even arrived." Heth said; "And even where they_ do _arrive, two cruiser-class main guns don't do much to even the scales when the enemy isn't just Terminus pirates anymore. Admiral, my men are _dying_ out there. Shastri wouldn't listen, Admiral Hackett denied me a meeting all-together, and Petrovsky lacks the pull to help. To put it as it is, Admiral Fisher, the lives of the Spacelane Patrol depends on whether or not you're willing to help."

"Hmm…" Anna tapped a pen, old-fashioned as it was, she still liked the feel of it, on the table; "If_, if_ I agree to pull some strings in Parliament, what would I get out of it?"

Tibus Heth looked furious, for a short instant, then settled back into a placid, professional expression.

"The Corporations cover seventy percent of all industry in the Alliance. If you would let us construct ships up to two kilometers, all trade conducted with the Alliance Navy, your department in particular, will see some… _heavy_ discounts."

"How heavy?" Anna smirked a bit. She _loved_ putting the screws to people.

"Depending on the goods… up to…"he looked like the sentence pained him; "…_sixty_ percent."

"Eighty." The man paled. Which, considering his already pale complexion, was quite the sight. He also released a small, hoarse cough.

"Seventy."

"Seventy-nine." Anna pressed; "Not a percentage less, _and_, I want a full account of what exactly goes for how much."

"…Deal." He muttered something about not hoping for a second term as Chairman; "There is also the matter of installing spinal guns in our already existing ships."

"Which _would_ be a direct breach of the treaty." Anna muttered aloud, enjoying the frown on Heth's face; "That would be hard to negotiate, even for me."

"It would do much to secure the outer colonies." Heth argued; "And, maybe we could compensate you, somehow, should this be made possible."

Gods, Anna just _loved_ it when she could manipulate people like this. She had already decided, even before Heth entered her office, to grant both requests. Now she just wanted to squeeze the lemon that was the Spacelane Patrol.

"Tell me, Chairman, do you hold authority over both the human _and_ the Turians in Spacelane?"

Heth nodded slowly, a suspecting frown settling once more on his face.

"I do, yes. In a case of emergency, such as now seems more and more to be, the members of the Spacelane Assembly can grant supreme authority to the Chairman."

"And, just curious of course, how _many_ ships are currently under the command of the Supreme Chairman?"

"Two thousand warships, six thousand if you count in fighter-crafts and blockade-runner freighters."

Anna blew a long, appreciative tone at that, followed by a vicious smirk spreading on her face.

"Oh, I think I just might know what you can do for me then."

* * *

**Oh hi, I have been contemplating something that I wanted to run by you as my readers. Two things, actually.**

**First, I am going to add a new warship to the arsenal of the Spacelane Patrol, and I will let you choose which one. The only rule is that it mustn't be more than the two kilometers Anna agreed to, and it must have its origins in either Caldari or Gallente ships.**

**The second is that I will soon be changing my "name" on FF. Just thought I'd let you guys know so that you won't be all "who the fek is this guy?" later on.**

**Yep, that's it. I'll see you later, somehow, but for now I will be working on my two other stories as well. I have maybe sort of been neglecting them... :3**


	29. Agressive Negotiations

**What is this, a chapter set a whole seven days after the previous one ended? But what about reading about Ahsoka's first days on the team and how she and Boss had countless awkward moments? and if he and his team came directly from Kashyyk, which hadn't even happened yet when Ahsoka left the Reublic, WHAT MANNER OF SORCERY IS THIS?**

**Right... ehm... yep, just read and enjoy, I am currently unable to move from my current position as a big dog is using my lap as a pillow... yep, that's NZ for ya :)**

**Also, this story will offer something rather... unexpected, about a certain (actually intelligent) Councilor.**

* * *

**Aggressive Negotiations**

* * *

March 20th

Serpent Nebula, Citadel Space

Citadel Presidium, domicile of Councilor Sparatus.

03:22

Turians were born, bred and raised in a culture that valued honor, dignity and valor above all else. Turians were the poster-boy soldiers of the galactic society. They never panicked, never broke rank and the only time one would see the back of a Turian soldier was if he fell forward when he died.

Curiously enough, the human explorer John Grissom had once remarked that the Turians had balls made of same steel as their claws. Even if that note had been made by a human right after the 314 incident, the "joke" was popular with both species.

Having balls of steel was also the only thing that kept Irius Sparatus, Turian representative on the Citadel Council, from outright panicking when he woke up to the barrel of a gun pressed into his forehead. Instead, he was just pissed.

"Get up." The wielder ordered, voice low, synthesized and menacing.

Sparatus glared at the yellow helmet concealing the man behind it. Eclipse. A mercenary scum had the audacity to- _how_ had he gotten into his home? The Turian slowly complied, glaring around as he realized the Eclipse merc was not alone. Ten others filled his bedroom, and he could see others moving around in his main chamber. _S'kak! Where in Iacobus' holy name are my bodyguards?! _

When he was dragged out of the main door, he found out: the Blackwatch guards were lying motionless on the floor, bound and gagged to boot.

"This is Five-Two, we have the target." The Eclipse didn't even turn his outer speakers off, allowing the Turian to follow that end of the conversation; "Acknowledged, preparing exfil."

"What are you doing in my-" His words were interrupted by the stock of a gun hitting his temples.

Darkness...

When he woke up later, he was bound to a chair, gagged and blindfolded.

'_I hate my job…_' he thought, as he was unable to mutter to himself.

But at least kidnappings required the hostage to be alive, so he had that going for him, which was nice.

* * *

March 20th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream.

Hangar D-5, Military Sector.

15:22

"Attention!"

The team, assembled and in gear, snapped to attention when the doors opened, allowing in their commanding officer. Shepard gave them all a cursory glance, walking with heavy steps while the only unarmed part of her body, her head and therefore face, showed irritation beyond measure.

"At ease." She said, waiting for the team to stand at normal. Thomas could feel his plates shift as he relaxed his stance. The entire team was standing at the ready, weapons on their backs and helmets held under arm; "Listen up people, and listen well."

Gods, he hoped this wasn't going to be another "easy" mission. He _hated_ those, because they always turned out to be the worst kind. _Repair a comms-relay becomes fight a horde of zombies. Visit the Normandy's wreck, fight Collectors who can __**fucking **__bend!_

"Approximately twelve hours ago, the Turian Councilor, Irius Sparatus, was taken from his domicile on the Citadel. Surveillance showed Eclipse Mercs taking him onboard a shuttle, _without_ C-Sec noticing anything. Obviously, you are now thinking: what has this got to do with us?"

She let the question hang in the air, almost as if she dared anyone to actually ask it. Thomas just knew he didn't want to take that bet.

"Here are the parameters: Five hours ago, Alliance Spy-Sat's caught a small flotilla of Eclipse vessels enter Alliance space in the Cacus system. Scans revealed they were headed for the planet of Chohe, which holds no infrastructure aside from an abandoned Sirta research complex: Command assumes these are the same Eclipse responsible for the Councilor's disappearance and treats this as a hostage situation. Since this is now in _Alliance_ space, and our parting from the Citadel races denied Council vessels entrance into Alliance space, we're being called in to resolve the situation."

Shepard held a short pause, emerald eyes going over each member of the team. Thomas looked her straight in the eyes when she looked at him, then at Ahsoka the moment the eyes moved on. It was still a bit weird, seeing the former Jedi in Alliance armor, which was essentially _clone_ armor. Something Thomas had realized when he'd calmed down upon her arrival, was that Kasumi's presence might very well change _something_ in the Andromeda timeline. Thus, he had refrained from horribly scarring the girl by mentioning her master's fall to the Dark side in the future: if Kasumi somehow prevented it, there was no reason for him to say anything.

Tequila had required some… persuading, to keep silent. Nikolai had been easy enough to convince, at least.

"I don't think I need tell you this, but the Alliance resolving this situation will almost guarantee the Hierarchy to somehow be indebted to us. That makes this a political mission as well as a military one, so _be. Careful._ Be professional, and for the love of God, _don't_ accidentally end up shooting the hostage." The last one was obviously meant as a joke, and caused a few snickers in the group; "We're shipping out with the 11th Fleet's Scouting Flotilla, so report to the shuttle in ten in full gear: this is a search and rescue mission, which means we don't leave witnesses. Anything not-Sparatus we encounter, we vent first and ask questions later. Understood?"

"Yes Ma'am." They echoed with one voice. That _never _failed to make Thomas shiver with pride.

"Good." She gave the team a last glance before nodding; "Dismissed."

* * *

Cacus System, Hades Gamma

SSV Seoul, 11th Scouting Flotilla

19:22

The flotilla was, quite like the name suggested, a small group of lightly armed and armored warships, primarily meant for reconnaissance, counter-terrorism and patrolling of inner systems. In the lead was the flotilla's only battlecruiser, the SSV Chicago.

Of the seven ships in the group, the SSV Seoul was the one carrying the Alliance Strike Team, a group of soldiers so infamous that their involvement in the battle of the Citadel had become the stuff of legends. Odd, considering they were supposed to be completely unknown to the public.

Still, Thomas 'Demon' couldn't quite help but grin under his helmet when he noticed people watching them with something akin to awe. Usually, he hated being the center of attention, but now? It was kind of awesome, knowing that people respected him and the team, even if they didn't even _know_ them. _So… this is what it feels like being a celebrity? Nice…sort of._

The hallways of the frigate reminded him very little of what the Normandy had been like, most likely because the Normandy had been a merge between Turian and human designs. Tequila 'Roca' had told him the same design had been used for the Spacelane's heavy cruiser, the 'Moa'. Curiously enough, the Spacelane seemed fond of naming their ships after birds. Here though, the design was very much Alliance. The corridors were straight and angled, no curves and with as much efficiency and technology crammed in as one could get away with. Rolling his plated shoulders, he whistled softly, and incoherently, as he walked towards the hangar.

Much like the hangar of the Normandy though, the Seoul's hangar was dully colored, dimly lit and without any excessive decorations whatsoever. Coming through the door to the room, Thomas spotted the rest of his team waiting by a WASP-gunship. Internally, he would never stop calling them LAAT's, but he wasn't the one making the rules, so he didn't voice that line of thought.

It _had_ been amusing though, seeing Ahsoka 'Monk's reaction when she saw not only the team in armor, but also the gunships they used. He could imagine it was a bit confusing to her, but she didn't seem bothered by it now, having been on the team for almost ten days already.

This would be the first actual combat-mission for her. He was looking forward to it, more so than usual too.

It wasn't because he was looking forward to the _fighting_, far from it. The fact that they were going to be fighting _mercenaries_, meaning _mortals_ and not overpowered crazies, was what he was looking forward to. _Hell, after everything, this might feel like a day off…_

"Alright, secure weapons." Shepard 'Aurora' called, leading by example as she slapped handguns and katana into the magnetic seals on her back. The rest of the team followed, filing into the waiting gunship with little to no chatter amongst them. Thomas ended up behind the bulky form of Nikolai 'Nord', one of the heavy gunners of the taskforce. Nikolai and Tequila were the only people who couldn't just slap their guns onto their backs, seeing as the tri-barreled smartguns were just too _big_ for that. Instead, the heavy weapons were secured into compartments in the top of the interior gunship. Shepard, waiting for the last to file in, nodded when all were ready; "Pilot, we're ready for take-off."

Thomas couldn't hear the reply, but he didn't really have to. The doors to the gunship slid shut with a hiss, sealing in the passengers before a lurch went through the vessel as it lifted off.

The mandatory heart-beating-like-crazy feeling started almost instantly, forcing him to control his breathing. He didn't want to risk some sort of adrenaline-linked reaction, because honestly, no one wanted the cabin to burst into flames. Descending through the atmosphere of a planet was way more fun when you didn't have to put out a fire.

The sudden rocking of the vessel, far too sudden for it to be planned, nearly threw him into the wall.

"Pilot, what the hell was that?!" Shepard yelled into the comms, her voice cutting through the now red-tinted darkness of the cramped space. The pause in her speech was filled with the repeated sound of blasts, coming from just outside.

"Anti-Air!" someone called, voice filtered beyond recognition. Oh yeah, that was apparently a required thing now.

"Hey Ahsoka," the bulky armor next to the lightly armored Togruta called. Obviously Nikolai; "Way to start off your first mission eh? Just like Teth, am I right?"

"One minute to ground!" Shepard called, breaking off Ahsoka's reply.

"How do you know about-" a fresh blast, _much_ closer this time, rocked the gunship and sent the Togruta stumbling into the massive visage of 'Nord'. Something like a chuckle came from his helmet;

"Teth?" he _definitely_ chuckled; "Oh, I don't know _anything_ about Teth."

"How can you joke when-UGH" the entire team was slammed against one side as a new blast, complete with the defining clatter of shrapnel hammering the gunship's armor, made itself known; "Aren't we on the ground soon?"

"Thirty seconds, Monk." Shepard answered for him, and also made it clear that names were no longer allowed. Feeling his adrenaline pump, Thomas looked for Ashley, finding her visor-added helmet just beyond the orange tint of Boss. She was looking at the front of the cabin, not at him. _At least that means she's calm. Good._

"Twenty!" A green light lit up in the far end of the cabin. Thomas' hand found the grip of his rifle.

"Ten seconds!" the time seemed to speed past, completely the opposite of what time was supposed to do, which was slow down and make your life crawl.

"Time to lock and _unload_!" The voice was once more filtered, but the fact that Nikolai's gauntlet found the grip of his light machinegun, betrayed him as the speaker. There was the concerning fact that the guy sounded less and less bothered each time he was going into a fight, as if his civilian mindset, like Thomas' own, had slowly been stripped away. _Only mine died with the rest of Dog-squad…_

"Brace for landing! Weapons at the ready, exit both sides!" he barely heard Shepard's orders, though he knew well enough the procedure now that he didn't need to either. Thomas grabbed the handle of the Avenger and pulled it, unfolding, ready to fire. With a thud of arrested deceleration, the gunship touched down, doors hissing open on both sides.

"Let's rock!" Nikolai was one of the first out, his heavy machine gun brought to bear. Thomas offered him a single glance, silently wondering if the big gun had made a "big" man. Close to their own gunship, two additional WASP's had touched down, marines spilling from them in similar fashion. Curious, Thomas hadn't seen them leaving the Seoul, meaning the rest of the flotilla had deployed gunships as well. _Command, Anna more likely, isn't taking chances here…_

His contemplations were brought to an end as projectiles started slamming into his shields, forcing him behind his bigger colleague for better cover. _Damn, I almost feel bad about using Nikolai as a walking shield, but if it works…_

Up ahead, across the barren, cold wastes of Chohe, Thomas could see the base supposed to hold the Turian Councilor. It was the standard layout, far as he could see, with the prefab buildings making up most of the surface-areas, and bunker-like entrances to the underground facilities. Between them and that base though, dozens upon dozens of yellow-clad mercenaries were covering behind stones, barriers and barricades, firing upon the marines with just about everything from handguns to missiles and mechs galore.

"Roca!" Aurora yelled, covering herself with a biotic barrier as a missile struck her. The projectile was swatted aside with relative ease; "Make a wall here! We need cover!"

Because apparently it wasn't very fun to run across a hundred meter flat terrain. Go figure.

"Got it!" 'Roca' called back, stopping her run; "Don't get in front of me!"

Not that Thomas had any intentions of doing just that, of course, but the order was more likely meant for whatever other marines were nearby. Not waiting for confirmations, the Service Chief stomped both feet into the hard rock of the ground, and tore upwards with an effort that disagreed with the air she was doing it through. The resulting bursts of vertical rock though, gave credence to her skills.

Odd, how no marines stopped to question _what in the hell just happened_, and instead just took cover for what it was and got behind it. A few _did_ tap the wall of rock, just to check if it was real or not, but otherwise treated it like any other piece of cover.

"Pour it on 'em!" 'Eve' yelled, bringing her Revenant to bear. The red-painted assault-rifle started spitting slugs almost the instant it rested on the flat wall-top; "God, I missed shooting people!"

Thomas paused from his own shooting, unwittingly allowing a merc to duck before getting perforated. Ignoring the few slugs pinging off the top of his helmet's shields, he gave the blonde woman a flat stare, one she of course wouldn't be able to see;

"There's something seriously wrong with you, you know…" he muttered, earning a snicker from the woman in response. Obviously, Hillary had been given that particular piece of mind before. Instead of bothering with a new lecture, because he honestly didn't care to, Thomas leaned back over the wall and hosed a fellow human with tungsten; "…never mind."

"Demon! Make a hole in their lines! Ghost, Viking and Wolf, cover him from enemy biotics!" at hearing the Captain's orders, Thomas glanced around, seeing Dwaine and 117 nod their affirmations and open fire on the biotics in sight. _Strange… where's As-_

_KRAK!_

With the sound of a Mantis coughing off a shot, Ashley 'Ghost' materialized, kneeling behind cover with her rifle resting on the wall. Thomas blinked in stupor for a moment, confused as to just _how_. Then he realized that she probably used something similar to what Kasumi used all the time.

"Got it!" he yelled, taking comfort in Ashley being able to disappear from view. At least it meant she was safer than any of the others. Taking a deep breath, even as more slugs departed his supporters, he willed up the emerald tint, feeling energy rush through his body, fill his veins, his bones and his blood. When he pressed his eyes shut, the world was normal.

When he snapped them open, the world was a clear, sharp green. _Time to earn that paycheck, eh?_

He jumped over the cover, a human torch of emerald fire more than anything. It was always curious to study the reactions around him when he let loose, and this time was little different from the other times humans had been on the receiving end of his powers. Just like on the Citadel, the mercenaries were momentarily stunned by his appearance, then resumed fire as he broke into a sprint towards them.

…_Sometimes, I really miss having Roku in my head again…So, does that qualify as being insane?_

As he came closer, 'Demon' started being able to hear what the Eclipse were saying, and a malicious grin spread beneath his helmet.

"-Hell is with that guy!?"

"Shoot him!"

"They're targeting our bio-!" _KRAK_

"Who the fuck is that?!" the yells and firing were increasingly panicked, making a predatory, toothy grin spread even wider on his expression. Fear. The mercenaries _radiated _it like the stench of a carcass. Willing more power up than necessary, he reached the first and best merc, a man with a cheap Avenger pointed at him, and _roared_;

"**I am here to destroy you!" **the voice was only narrowly recognizable as his own, deep and baritone as it came out. His bionic hand ripped the rifle from the merc, then punched his right hand, a blazing fist, through the man's helmet as if it wasn't even there; "**Let me acquaint you with the fires of HEL!"**

"_Mind over mat-" __KRAK!-KRAK!-KRAK!_

The repeated coughs of a Viper-rifle made themselves known, spreading the brain-mass of an Asari out the back of her skull, even as her hands had been focused on a gathering warp. Good, his support was keeping up. That meant he was free to break apart the next merc, bionic grip ripping through his ceramic hardsuit while the fires of hell burned the man's brain to a stinking vapor;

_**"**_**I am the God of Fire!" **He roared, pulping a man's bones with a full-powered punch of his bionic fist against the poor fuck's ribs; **"I am your death, I am your end!"**

He was in the middle of enemy lines now, mercenaries all around him. All firing on him. All firing on him in vain. Roku had once theorized that the fires released from the second stage, the 'Human torch' stage, easily reached temperatures over three-thousand degrees Celsius, which would explain why slugs of tungsten more or less evaporated upon contact with his fiery barrier.

"**Worthless scum, you will ALL die!" **Was it wrong of him to enjoy, to savor their fear this much? If so, he didn't much care. The feelings running through him, the adrenaline, the raw delight of combat in his superior form, sent shivers down his spine. As if the mercs had been waiting for him to speak, they now resumed firing once more, heavier ammunition this time facing him down. Literally, in the case of a hulking, lumbering Ymir mech that opened fire on him.

"Target acquired"

"**I happen to disagree."** He huffed, took off and skirted around the back of the mech, closely trailed by the heavy machinegun in its right arm. Now behind the mech, ignoring the continued firing being poured on him though it _was_ starting to make him sweat, Thomas plunged the bionic fist into the metallic foe's backside and climbed up, burning is way through the mech's armor for a better grip.

"_Unable to target. Error!"_

"**Nope, everything is fine!" **he grinned before hammering both fists into the mech's vital point: its head, one hand ablaze, the other imbued with the strength to rip through metal with ease. The violently opened head sparked and smoked, spitting malware-reports and alerts out in scrambled binary. Gathering his feet below him, Thomas jumped off the mech as he remembered a rather annoying fact: the mechs tended to _explode_ violently upon death.

Landing on the hard ground made him grunt with pain as he miscalculated the height, and slammed his knees into his chest, then fell backwards as the mech blew up. The sudden pain and lack of air caused his blazing barrier to flicker, thinning visibly. _Fuck! _

"Keep shooting!"

Really? They couldn't just give him a moment to catch his breath? And then_ just_ when his barriers were faltering? _Dudes don't know good sportsmanship._ Still, he got up and breathed deeply, restoring the barrier, though his shields had dipped drastically in the short period of time he had spent exposed. Talos, those bastards were dead-set on seeing him… well, dead.

Cracking his blazing knuckles, Thomas once more found the killer-intent and grinned, no longer even flinching when a missile simply melted beyond scrap upon contact with him. It was standard, these days. Looking around, he counted the amount of enemies left: a meager forty mercs, not counting the mechs.

"**Forty of you left, give or take.**" He took in the way his calm, yet menacing speech impacted the mercs; "**I'll see if I can't be done in less seconds than that.**"

He didn't give them a chance to reply or plead for mercy. Like a blaze, he leapt forward, bionic fist pulled back, then slammed it forward and through the skull of an Asari, her last moments of life spent in a strangled scream. He held onto her body, limp and heavy, then flung it at the nearest other Eclipse, knocking the man down.

Not wasting a second, he _had_ promised the mercs to be quick about it, Thomas leapt over the downed man, saving him for later, and punched a flaming fist through the weak piece between helmet and torso on a Salarian Eclipse. In retrospect, _any_ place was weak on a Salarian, so it wasn't a calculated punch when the next attack had him tearing out one of the amphibian aliens' spine with his free hand, then kicked away the staggering, still-standing corpse before throwing the gory spine at the next merc.

The next five, and they were five at once, died upon trying to fire upon him, close up and from all sides. Sweeping fire through the air, he spun in a wide arch and burned them to the point of hearing their internal organs pop and sizzle, flesh boil and ceramics crack from the heat. He'd wanted them to drop simultaneously, but eh, the world wasn't perfect. Also, he wasn't going to make the forty kills. Not because he was taking so long, but because Ahsoka and Tequila had joined the brawl, Tequila albeit from a distance while the Togruta was getting up close and personal, slicing men open with her twin blades.

"**Stop stea-** Stop stealing my kills!" he pressed his voice into normal tones in his complaint, but it was really more irritation of being surpassed than it was irritation of them interfering.

"You were taking too long!" the Hispanic Service Chief called, punching spikes of rock out of the ground. There were as many screams of pain as there were of surprise, as being killed by stalagmites likely hadn't been on anyone's list of risks.

"We need to get to the Councilor before they kill him!" Ahsoka more or less agreed, stabbing both sabers through an unlucky guy's chest before Force-throwing six others high into the air. Despite being the supposedly 'innocent' of the group, Thomas had to wince a bit at the way she killed those people. At least _he_ was quick about it, but being thrown so far, you would have _time_ to realize you were you going to die. And there was jack-shit you could do about it.

A series of _thud-thud-thud's_ ripped the air, placing a blue-shifted Aurora in the midst of the last concentration of mercs, then slammed a pulsing fist of gravitonic energy into the ground, splashing a warp to all sides. If the warp didn't kill them, the execution-style gunshots from her dual Carnifex's did.

"Aspect of Fire, when we're done cleaning up here, marines will hold the perimeter while we go in after the target." She called over the comms. At the 'cleaning up' part, Thomas glanced around, realizing with a start that, in fact and truth, most of the mercs had been killed. Only a few stragglers remained, though for reasons unknown, they refused to just throw up their arms and surrender.

More the fools them, he shrugged, as he watched them get gunned down with extreme prejudice.

In the end, anyone in yellow armor was lying on the ground, dead as dead could be. Accepting that yes, the fight _was_ over, Thomas closed his eyes, pressed them forcefully together as he felt the energy and the flames dwindle. When he opened his eyes again, the world was once more in the colors it was supposed to.

"Well… everyone alright?" he asked, upon not seeing anyone from the team kneeling over a dead body.

"No casualties, we're clear." Boss 'Delta-1' replied over the comms; "A few glancing impacts, but the armor took the brunt."

"Nord, you good?" Thomas asked, looking at where Nikolai touched his comms, a good twenty meters away with his.

"Yep, shields held all the way through." The mountain-clad soldier replied; "Damn glad they did too, I still remember that close call on Feros."

"Huh." That was the first _he_ heard about that; "Colonist or Geth?"

"Geth, sniper almost took my head off." There was a wince in his voice at the memory; "Ah, good times."

"_Good_ times?" Hillary chuckled, clearly interested in an anecdote. The bigger soldier turned his head towards her, his expression hidden behind his black visor;

"You know, facing down the unknown, killing it with big guns…" there was a sort of melancholic sigh in his voice; "I think that's just about how Wrex would put it, were he here that is."

"Right…" Hillary replied, kicking over a dead merc as she looted him for grenades; "He left for Tuchanka, right? Wonder how he's doing…"

"Team, to the door." Aurora broke up the banter, gesturing them towards the only opening to the formerly-abandoned facility in the middle of the area. There was only one door, about the same size as one would find in a regular house; "The rest of the marines will secure the perimeter and break the bunker-barracks."

The team did as ordered, and stacked up at the door. Shepard pulled open one of her pouches and retrieved… something. Thomas was too far back in the line of soldiers to see what it was, but the captain held it in her palm for just a moment, then tossed it upwards and opened her Omnitool. A screen popped up, and her fingers started dancing around on the display, leaving the rest of them in silence.

* * *

Unknown location

Unknown time

Click-Click…Click…

So far, no one had come by to torture him. At least not for the past three hours. One of the mercenaries had come by, punched him in the face and left. So, that was his definition of 'torture' in this place, as nothing worse really had happened. With the reputation of the Eclipse, he had expected to lack at _least_ five appendixes now.

Click.

Click.

Click.

They had stripped him of his boots, he wasn't sure why, but that left him with something of an advantage, at least. Irius was one of a few people, parts of long, _long_ lines down through history, who had retained some of the gifts their ancestors had held, before the time of the Great Purification, when old traditions had fallen into the darkness.

Click…Click…Click…

Click…Click?

He was furiously, yet patiently tapping the short talons on his feet against the floor, getting a feel for the room. He was still tied to the chair, yes, but that did little to prevent his exploring oh his cell, if he even was in one. After a few minutes of tapping, he had found the room to be roughly five by two meters, and made almost completely out of carbon-alloys and graphene, the latter marking it as a human construction. Curious, but not surprising, given that a majority of Eclipse was known to be human, then Asari, then Salarian and lastly, Batarians. Irius had yet to encounter a _Turian _Eclipse, for which he was thankful.

Click…Click…Click…

Of course, having explored his own cell the first minutes he had spent conscious, he was no longer merely getting a feel for his surroundings. Instead, most likely because the building was secured _on_ ground, rather than above or below it, he could use the same method to keep a track of what was going on outside his cell.

For one, he could sense a lot less individuals walking around than before. It was almost as if they had all just up and _left_, though he couldn't tell _why._

Still, at least it meant he was alone for now,

"_Councilor?"_

Or, maybe not. The universe did love to surprise him lately. Like how he had only been able to stop a Council-sanctioned naval attack on Rannoch (on the base of it being an active Geth hive world), by pressing on the fact that he, as representative for the Turian Hierarchy, could and would severely weaken any and all conflicts by ensuring that no Turian warships would partake. Really, he never stopped being surprised at his colleagues' stupidity, though he somehow felt he should have seen it coming, after the way they had dismissed Udina's demands for aid against the Reaper-ships.

They seemed to cling to the old belief that the Citadel Council was still the undisputed superpower of the Galaxy they had once been. True, they would probably still win any conflict they entered, because no one had the sheer _numbers_ to fight them, but a war with the Systems Alliance, which would be the outcome of even a single warship entering the Tikkun-system, would cost them dearly; _"This is a Systems Alliance rescue-force. Currently, a nano-robot in the form of a fly is resting on your left shoulder. If you can hear me, shrug casually."_

He did just that.

"_If your immediate surroundings are clear of potential hostiles, shrug again."_

Once more, he complied. Considering the choice was to just sit there, or do as the human woman asked, it really wasn't a difficult one to pick out.

"_Good. Councilor, this Captain Shepard of the Systems Alliance Navy Special Ops. Are you in any way in need of medicinal treatment?"_

"No, but thank the Spirits you've come." He sighed, feeling something of a burden vanish from his shoulders; "This might be a stupid question, I know, but do you have a Spectre with you, or are you here solely under the Alliance's authority?"

"_No Spectres, I'm afraid, but we're just as good as that." _Shepard assured him; "_We've currently cleared out some sixty-plus hostiles outside the facility, and we're preparing to move into the building you are in. To avoid any accidental shots hitting you, I need you to lie down on the floor… now, if you can. We breach in ten."_

This was probably going to hurt. He _was_ tied to a chair, after all.

Still, if a force of _Alliance _forces had come to save his ass, he wasn't going to fret over a little pain or a sore shoulder. Thus, with all the grace he could muster, the most powerful Turian in the galaxy tipped his chair over, landed on the floor with a grunt of pain and started spitting curses like a juvenile pre-military runt.

Good thing he felt the small insectoid robot being crushed underneath him: he didn't need the Alliance to know he was prissy about hitting floors while blindfolded.

Then again, he doubted the things he said would be translated by the programs.

* * *

Chohe, Cacus-system

Outside main facility, Sirta Foundation

12:09 (Local time)

"Alright, the Councilor is confirmed safe for the moment and is on the ground." Aurora stated, turning off the program she had been running on her Omnitool. Thomas still didn't know what it was, but assumed it was some sort of surveillance or scan; "Roca, breach the door."

"Roger."

With a grunt of effort, Tequila 'Roca' bored both hands into the door's frames, ripping it clear of the hinges like had it been tissue-paper. As she was about to put it down to the side, the Captain firmly pushed her aside with something Thomas couldn't hear, before placing herself in front of it;

"Room Service, you bastards!" she shouted, glowed blue and kicked the door in. just like on Feros. And, just like on Feros, the door flew inwards, smashing into the awaiting few mercs left in the building. The sound of armor shattering, bones breaking and men screaming, meant the Captain had made a strike; "It had to be said, you know?"

"_This_ is why I prefer the missions where we kill people." 'Eve' cheered, poking her head through the door's opening as they filed in, guns held at the ready; "You just don't get to afford a sense of humor when the baddies want to eat your face or drink your blood."

"I repeat my former statement, Private…" Thomas muttered, slipping in behind Ashley; "There's something _seriously_ wrong with you."

"So says the firebender playing God when killing people." She grinned with her voice, turning the illusion of calm towards him with the expressionless visor; "_Oh, 'I am here to destroy you! Pow, burn, kill, maim!_' Yeah, I'm still shooting my targets dead, spank you very much."

Since kicking her in the butt would be improper conduct (for now at least) of a superior officer, he didn't know what to reply with to _that_, and thus simply remained silent as they progressed through the seemingly empty facility. It being a prefab complex, the whole facility was just one room, divided in the middle by some sort of supporting pillar, seemingly also serving as a computer-central of some sort.

"Eyes sharp, target is ten meters up ahead, through the door." Aurora directed, pointing at where the wall opened up into a tunnel of sorts. The whole thing was eerily chunky in design, and looked more like he imagined the inside of an AI's mind would look than something constructed for humans to walk around in.

The more surprising fact though, was that there really _was_ no more mercenaries in the facility. Aside from the few who had been smeared by the door, the place was empty. Empty, and silent as the grave, which wasn't as creepy as it sounded. Especially when you were walking around with lots of big guns.

"Stack up on the door. Roca, get it open, nice and tidy."

"Yep." Instead of simply ripping the door from its hinges like before, this time Tequila grabbed the top of the door, dug her fingers into the metal, and started peeling it down like the lid of a sardine-can. The noise was frustratingly loud, and made him want to ground his teeth, but the resulting lack of dangerous shrapnel was worth it.

"Breaching!" Aurora, being the most heavily armored biotic of the group, not to mention the _only_ biotic of the group, entered first, handguns at the ready. It only took her a moment to follow it up with; "Clear! The Councilor is secure. Get on comms and have the gunships prepare to leave in five."

Wait. Wait. Something suddenly clicked in Thomas' mind. It was something that seemed improbably optimistic, yet all the signs were there.

Unless someone shot them down while on their way home, this _would_ actually be an "easy" mission that didn't betray its name.

"Well… that was easy." Dwaine 'Viking' shrugged, slipping his shotgun back into place behind his back; "So…drinks on the Captain?"


	30. A Proposal Is Made

**A Proposal Is Made**

* * *

March 20th

Serpent Nebula, Citadel station

22:06

A worried frown, marring features others called "beautiful" and "serene", was etched over the woman's face, eyes directed at the empty display before her.

It had been almost seven hours since she had last heard from the mercenaries, and the last connection had caused her no small amount of annoyance, as the mercs had been confident in their ability to sell Sparatus back to the Citadel Council, instead of following her orders: to kill the bastard in Alliance space and leave "hints" that the perpetrators had been N7 operatives.

At least they had remembered to leave human blood in the right places, but what good would that doo if the damn Turian returned safely to the Citadel? His ways of thinking were quickly becoming a hindrance to her plans.

Oh, but of course they knew the Council would pay for him. That is, had the man's abduction ever been made known. Instead, the mercs had proclaimed they could acquire larger sums of money by ransoming the Councilor, then flee before some Spectre, that annoying Vasir for one, could hunt them all to an early grave.

"Dammit…" she muttered, tapping a finger on her blue lips; "When even hired guns don't know how to kill _one_ man…what am I to do for _them_ to appreciate my efforts?"

* * *

March 21st

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Military Hangar D-5, Military Sector

05:29

"God…dammit…" the old auburnette yawned, pressing a hand over her mouth so as to look a bit less like she was tired like hell, which she was, and instead focus her gaze forward; "I…_hate_ these piss-early arrivals!"

The colonel next to her said nothing, his stance rigid and focused. Right, he had some sort of period these days, she just couldn't figure him out. Kun was there, mainly because Steven had not been in the mood to greet Sparatus, and also because he was a lot better at staying diplomatic and polite in this kind of situation. Anna didn't exactly _blame_ her uncle for not being there, or at a lot of his other duties she ended up filling for him, it was simply the going of time, and his old age catching up to him. Admiral Hackett might be a legend, like her, but he was well past the nineties, and honestly should have retired _long_ ago.

Anna gave credit to his medicinal prescriptions that the man could even still fulfill _any_ of his duties at all.

"There they are…" she muttered, watching as a white-striped blue shuttle soared in through the hangar's barriers, reversed thrusters, before finally settling down with a sleepy hiss of air; "Damn Turian better be kissing my feet when he comes out here…"

"Admiral." Kun admonished next to her, his eyes not leaving the shuttle as its doors hissed open. The Kodiak was a bit bigger than its predecessors, allowing it to hold the entirety of her own personal taskforce. Plus the Turian Councilor, of course.

"Yeah, I know, I know…"she muttered, voice like a berated child, before letting out a snicker; "Would be a great story if he did though."

Spilling from the shuttle, Captain Shepard was at the front along with Sparatus, both walking with purpose, though obviously very different ones. Shepard was set in the expression of a soldier ready for a debrief, while Sparatus looked like he wanted to thank her, and then ask if she had some Dextro-coffee. Anna pulled a sigh and put on her game-face: the 'I'm slightly psychotic but also brilliant' face that she loved to harass the Turian with.

"Shepard, I see you picked up a hitch-hiker." She said, turning to the Turian before the Captain could respond with any more than a 'yes ma'am'; "Sparatus, you look surprisingly good for a newly liberated hostage. Prison-time straightened you out, did it?"

"I am surprised that _you_, of all people, are behind my rescue." He said, not at all sounding like he meant any sort of insult. Still, Anna leaned back, crossed both arms over her chest and gave him a mock-insulted glared;

"Hey, just because I kicked your colleague's ass doesn't mean I won't move Heaven and Earth to save yours." Her mock-glare remained for a solid three seconds, then turned into a smile instead. Sparatus might be a pompous, self-righteous butthole at times, but damn if she wasn't glad her sources had been right on the money.

"I suppose, and Tevos had it coming, if you ask me." He sighed, a small spreading of his mandibles revealing his withheld amusement, to which Anna quirked a brow, ignoring the rest of the team still standing at the ready behind Shepard.

"Aren't you supposed to take the side of your colleagues over the 'war-mongering' humans?" she mused, highly amused by his statement; "Also, isn't that the sort of talk a politician _doesn't _engage in?"

"I engage in it because it is the truth, and because there are no cameras here to let her know what I said." He sighed, a tired sigh that betrayed the stress he had apparently been under; "And as for the 'War-mongering part?...Just be glad I'm more of a pacifist than you, or those two prideful idiots would have started the next galactic war by now."

"Huh…" and that was all she said to that, though there was far more going on inside her brilliant mind. First of all, why had the other Councilor's wanted to begin a new conflict, second: where and when would they start it? And third: how many resources would they be willing to waste? "Captain Shepard, you may take your team and leave. Dismissed."

"Yes, ma'am Admiral." Shepard saluted, then turned and gestured for her team to follow out. Anna nodded as she watched them leave, noticing that Tano seemed to be looking at Kun with something akin to intense curiosity. What could that be about? "Tano, is there a problem?"

The girl froze in her steps, looking from Kun to her.

"N-no, Admiral." Her large eyes rested on Kun one last time, then the girl hurried after the rest, leaving Sparatus, a heavily breathing Kun, and a confused Anna in the room.

"Colonel?" Anna then tried, mostly just because there was a small chance that the man, who looked like he'd been missing a _lot_ of sleep the past days, would know something.

Kun rubbed his closed eyes, exhaling a long sigh. Obviously, the man was thinking, though she had no clue as to what about. The colonel had always been a bit of a one-of-a-kind, and one of the few people she couldn't read.

"No idea, Admiral…"he muttered after a few excessive seconds of silence; "But…it _i__s_ time I found out."

"Huh…Well, you do that." She conceded, shrugging at the hell of the time; "In the meantime, I'm going back to bed. Ping Price if something comes up."

"Will do, Admiral." He nodded curtly, saluted and then wandered off. Anna closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the silence. That was when she realized that Sparatus was still standing next to her, a confused, yet mildly amused expression on his face.

"…Right, completely forgot about you, pal." Damn, she was getting tired, or _was_ tired, if she was slipping like this. After a few seconds, his expression started annoying her; "Okay, _what_?"

"I had not expected to encounter Fisher again, your nephew that is." He glanced in the direction Thomas and the others had left in; "He seems a different man than back then."

"I was under the impression that the team was not allowed to divulge their identities with the exception of the commanding officer." She muttered, not really surprised though still annoyed, gesturing for him to accompany her. She might as well be a proper host. Still, she missed her bed. Darn.

"Shepard did reveal herself as I was rescued, however I merely guessed it was your nephew. When I asked if it indeed _was_ him, he nodded, and nothing more was said…" Sparatus' voice was respectful, something she liked about him. He _knew_ when to put pride on the bottom of the list.

As opposed to his colleagues.

"Yes, I suppose he is a different man than back then." She agreed, looking at the Turian. It wasn't until now she realized that he was actually walking around in what was the Turian version of a PJ. And of course he wouldn't let her take a picture. Sod; "You met him… when? Before the Citadel-battle, yes?"

"Yes, just after his promotion to corporal, as I recall. Back then, he… gave me something to ponder, the obvious threats from Saren aside." Sparatus looked at a few Quarian marines as he walked, most of them giving him clearly(even through their helmets) disinterested or disdainful looks; "the entity that materialized, "Roku" I believe its name was…"

He hadn't worded it as a question, but Anna wasn't deaf to implied curiousness.

"Turians have spirits, don't you?" she turned it on him, enjoying the flash of confuddlement on his face, then grew more serious at his nod;

"Yes, we do. However, I was under the impression that such practices have not existed among humans for many millennia."

"It hasn't. Not in any large or official understanding anyway…_Anyway_, as Turian have spirits, Roku is easy enough to explain…" Damn, she herself really still didn't know what Roku _really _was; "Roku is the ancient human Aspect slash Spirit of Fire. The Turian version of him… _Jacobus?_"

"_Iacobus_, embodiment of valor, fire and honor."

"Riiiight…" she drew the word out; "That's the guy."

Sparatus gave her a long, flat look at that point, to which she returned one of same kind, then shrugged and gave him her most innocent eyes. Considering her appearance and age, not to mention behavior, she knew that could be slightly unnerving to see.

"You know, some people on Palavan would have lynched you for that." His expression remained flat and stony for all but a mere moment, then spread his mandibles in a grin.

"A lot of people want me lynched, and for less than that." She gave him a broad smile; "So, mind abusing my hospitality for a few days? Call it an 'investigation into galactic connections' why don't you?"

"That's… an unexpected show of generosity, Admiral Fisher. Won't Shastri oppose this?"

"Oh please, Shastri wouldn't dare go against me if I painted a target on my back and gave him a gun." She grinned at Sparatus' expression of incredulity; "'Sides, you're my personal guest. Politics don't apply to that."

* * *

March 21st

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Apartment rented by Ashley M. Williams and Thomas V. Fisher

06:21

The door wasn't as much opened as it was kicked in, followed by the dead-beat, exhausted pair of marines calling the place 'home'. Ashley was first, as even tired Thomas was still a gentleman, and kicked her boots straight into the wall. They had managed to more or less get all their armor off in the right places, though Thomas now realized he had walked from the armory without removing his armored boots.

Damn.

"God… I need… a shower…" Ashley groaned, shrugging out of her clothes as she went. Thomas more or less shared that sentiment, but managed to keep his pants on long enough to gather the trail of garments from the front door to the bathroom, then tossed the entire bundle through the bedroom-door.

After having brought Sparatus onboard the Seoul, the team _should_ have been allowed to just sleep, but after one of the crewmen had tried killing the Councilor (apparently the man in question had been an Eclipse-agent in disguise. Go figure) the entirety of Aspect of Fire had been on a constant guard-detail, fully manned from Chohe to Arcturus, leaving most of them feeling like stepped on manure.

As he hung up his jacket on the rack in the hallway, his fingers touched the small box he'd hidden in the inner chest-pocket. _Right._ _Today._

He could hear the water turn on in the bathroom, then the sound of someone shutting the doors to the shower. Open the doors. Shut them. Open them again. Shut them again. Repeat and repeat, he finally reached the bathroom to see Ashley, still wearing socks, trying and failing to close the shutters.

"…Ash?"

"What?"

"Socks?"

"...What about 'em?"

"You… are still wearing them?" he tried, gesturing at the now-soaked foot-gloves. Ashley's face bobbed downwards, her tired eyes only widening a tiny bit in surprise.

"Oh…"

"Need help?"

"May…haps…Yes-please?" she muttered, looking at her feet. To Thomas' great surprise then, amusement too, she lifted one foot towards him, tired finger wagging at the offending piece of clothing. Too tired to suppress the equally tired laugh, he gently took ahold of her foot and pulled off the sock.

Then he wiggled her toes, just for giggles.

"Other one too?"

"Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…" she drawled, head more or less beneath the streaming water.

"Right then." He let go of the now-bared foot and leaned down, sliding his hand along her smooth, tanned leg; "Up with the other one then."

Wordlessly, she lifted the other foot, leaning against the wall for support. He pulled it off, then dumped it outside the door before letting her foot go, slowly lowering it to the floor.

"…Thom…" her voice was barely above a whispered drawl, eyes closed as she rested her head against the wall; "In here…"

"Mmm?" Tired as he may be, there was no way he could hide the broad grin on his face as he looked at her. Half asleep as _she_ was, naked body beneath the shower, she was probably resting comfortably on the top of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

"Come… in here… Need…hugging." And with that, she slid down the wall and dumped her gorgeous butt on the tiled floor, leaving him with an expression of incredible amusement, then just raw endearment as he felt his heart flutter at the sight of her.

Well, who was he to disobey an order from his superior?

Stripping out of his last garments, he sat down next to her in the shower, shivering a bit with delight as the hot water hit his shoulders and back. Ashley rested her head on his shoulder and neck before he even had a chance to turn and face her, tired moans of comfort humming from her.

It took him a few moments of pure paradise to realize she was actually asleep on his shoulder. Still, he remained where he sat for a few more minutes, relaxing and letting all the accumulated stress _wash_ off him. After he felt like he was about to fall asleep, Thomas pushed himself off the floor, turned off the water and lifted Ashley bridal-style up from the floor.

"Mmmmmm…" when she moaned in weak protest, he kissed her lips and silenced her.

"It's sleepy-time." He mused softly, cracking an even wider grin as she made kissy-faces a few seconds _after_ his lips left hers. Her expression became an exhausted pout.

"Don't wanna…walk. Carry."

"I am already carrying you, Honey." He replied, kissing her forehead as they crossed the threshold to the bedroom.

"Mmmm…._Honey_…" she wriggled a bit, nesting comfortably against his broad chest. He chuckled at that, the view of her hair-framed, beautiful features being almost impossible not to kiss over and over again. Because he intended on spending the rest of their lives doing just that. Even if he had to kick the Reapers back into Dark Space first.

He stood at the bed for a moment, honestly contemplating whether to dump her on it or lie down and let her use him as a cushioning. In the end, he chose the latter, slowly lowering himself down on the bed with her on top.

The end-result wasn't what he had planned, as Ashley ended up sprawled across him, like a makeshift blanket of arms and legs. Still, he managed to get the covers out from under them. The procedure was difficult, to say the least, but aside from taking a knee to the forehead, he managed quite well to get them both settled, Ashley murmuring half-assed apologies for the knee-thing allthewhile. In the end, it was with a content and happy sigh that he wrapped his arms around her abdomen, the abdomen carrying _his_ child (and that was probably the single-most terrifying and yet fantastic thing in the history of ever) and finally just relaxed. Skin against skin, body pressed against body sharing warmth.

"Thom?" her voice was on the edge of sleep.

"Mmmmmm?"

"I just realized… my mother's going to murder you…" there was a small chuckle to her words, followed by a long, content sigh as she snuggled into his embrace.

This was it. It didn't get much more intimate than this.

"Ashley." He started, breath suddenly caught in his throat. Gods, he loved her. Not just loved, he _belonged_ with her. He'd know he was going to ask this even before the mission to save Sparatus, but the Councilor's abduction had wrecked his dinner reservations. Now… now he would do it; "Ashley Madeline Williams."

She stirred a bit, likely more focused now.

"I figured, you know, that I'd have taken you out for dinner before asking, because it's sorta a big deal with the whole couple-thing and… before we got the whole Sparatus mission, I figured I was going to ask you to marry me. You know, if it means your mom isn't going to kill us, which is more of a bonus really, you know." He allowed himself to breathe, waiting for a reaction. As the seconds ticked by, only their breathing disrupting the silence he grew a little concerned; "Love? Honey-bunny?"

Silence.

"Ash?"

Still silence, followed by a soft snore, and a leg that twisted a bit for a better position.

She was asleep. The realization made him frown, press his face into the pillow and groan.

"God dammit…" he lay like that for a few minutes, calling himself all kinds of derogatives for not having noticed she'd been more or less asleep before he even started, then blew out a long puff of air; "Well… at least I can reword it later…"

Right now though, he was just too tired.

* * *

March 22nd

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Public Café, Civilian Sector

12:32

Most who saw the man sitting at the café on his own, dark hair cut short and dressed in military uniform of an officer, would think no further than seeing one of the Alliance officers taking a break from his, no doubt, "hard" work.

If one happened to take an active interest in the man, that person would soon end up wondering how he had ended up walking down a completely different corridor or street of the station than originally intended, and with no recollection of the officer at the café.

The officer seemingly taking some time off, was Alliance Colonel Exar Kun, known to his colleagues as a Greek soldier with a tragic past, which prompted people to leave it at that. However, that could hardly be any further from the truth, not that anyone would ever be able to discover _that_ on their own.

_Was this really a good idea?_

If there was one thing the ancient, recently reincarnated Sith had thought he could go infinite lifetimes without doing, it would be twiddling his thumbs like a nervous child. Nevertheless, that was exactly what he was doing, which left him feeling just all the more awkward.

Curious, that he was this uncomfortable at the prospect of a meeting. Was there any way this could go right?

Shabuir, they couldn't even eat the same food.

Still… he had been the one to, what was it called, _proposition_ Ela'Vaso vas Veela nar Veela, so he just needed to make the best of it. _It is not even anything of romantic character, regardless…_

Ela was one of the Quarian engineers who had been transferred to Arcturus from the Special Fleet to help develop better armor-systems for vulnerable soldiers, in this case the Quarians of the Systems Alliance. He'd met her on a complete coincidence, both being in the bar when one of the less-charismatic marines, a human (of course it just _had_ to be his own species making the scene) had lost a card-game to a Quarian, had refused to pay and had then started slinging all sorts of slurs at the other man.

The ensuing brawl was somewhat humorous in retrospect, if only because _he_ had been the only one sober enough to bother trying to prevent the suddenly appeared Quarian _woman_ from beating the absolute crap out of the both of them. _She really takes the whole 'divide-and-conquer'_ _method to a whole new level…_

That had been… what was it, a month ago now? He had talked to her after that, in the brig(because punching an officer in the jaw before kicking him in the shin was still an offense), and she had apologized profusely for the less-than respectful behavior she had exhibited towards him. He had accepted the apologies, mainly because he couldn't be bothered with the process of disciplining people when the galaxy itself was ready to end.

Curiously enough, she hadn't seemed to be very much embarrassed by her beatings of the other marines.

This, and other matters took his attention as he closed his eyes, controlling his breathing in an effort to meditate, to find a solution within his mind. Of course, what he would have to deal with, and soon, was Ahsoka Tano. The way she had looked at him as late as yesterday after the taskforce had returned, meant she _knew_ he was connected to the Force, and if she had been paying even a modicum of attention to history lessons in the temple(he _assumed _the Jedi still lived in the temple), she would know _who_ he was.

Which was a problem that could easily see him executed, or at least tried and attempted executed, should his past ever be made known. _Force dammit… I cannot just approach her, even if I no longer affiliate with the Sith, no doubt she can feel hints of the Dark side around me… How to solve-_

"Colonel? 'Ell_oooooooo?_"

"Huh?" It was very well that no one expected him to behave like an ancient Sith, because his reaction would definitely have shamed that expectation. Opening his eyes, Exar looked up and saw Ela standing by his table, something akin to amusement in her stance. The way her eyes wrinkled, visible behind a completely transparent faceplate, confirmed that amusement; "Oh, Ela'Vaso. Forgive me, I was in thought. Please, sit."

"Was waiting for you to ask." She hummed, scraping out the chair opposite from him. Exar often found an amusing, if uncanny resemblance between Quarians and Umbarans, only with the difference that Umbarans were perfectly capable of breathing their own atmosphere, yet preferred to wear helmets, whereas the Quarians were depending on their hermetic seals; "So, how are things?"

"Good, good…" he drawled, unsure of what to say. _I am contemplating whether to risk revealing myself to a Jedi or murder her in her sleep. Let us settle for 'good', shall we?_ "You?"

"Same old, same old… Admi- _Chief Researcher _Xen believes she has found a solution to the gyro-problem with the Quarian Bulwarks, but she keeps rambling about how we should put the geth back underfoot, not accept them as equals…" Ela's voice held annoyance, and the thin line that was her lips showed the same; "Honestly, that seems to be a developing schism with my people these days. Idiots all of them it seems often, half wants us to be friends with the geth, half wants to take over and enslave them again."

"And, where do you stand on that?" he asked tentatively, careful to not take sides before he knew hers.

"Me?" She snorted with laughter; "About five miles away with a pair of binoculars and some dextro-popcorn, enjoying the clash of morons."

"Ah…" he said, because it was all he could. To him, the geth were still something of a grey area. They seemed… alive, somehow, but yet had no footprint in the Force. They were like battledroids given sentience, an in itself curious thought; "So… do you have… time for a walk?"

Ela's head tilted a bit to the side, her eyes narrowing slightly in thought, then showed more curiosity.

"I do, yes." She finally said, relieving him of a breath he had not known he'd held; "Where do you want to go?"

There _was_ a place he had wanted to show her for some time now, if only because he found the place to be tranquil, and enjoyed the fact that meditational lessons were taken there, allowing him freedom to reaffirm his connection to the Force in the open without garnering suspicion or curious eyes.

It also was quite beautiful and enjoyable even to those not using it to find peace. Trickles of water running through small rock-formations, the silence of fish and the scent of exotic flowers all made for a pleasant experience;

"Have you ever seen the Koi-gardens?"

Surprisingly, she had. Not that it took anything away from the small trip though, as Exar found she had herself often considered spending time in them, meditating and connecting with herself. It was not the same reason _he_ went there, but it was the same as the reason he gave _her_.

The time he spent with her was enjoyable, and gave him a sense of peace. It was a different kind of peace than he found in meditation. It was, he contemplated and pondered, perhaps the peace found through the forging of a friendship? Whatever it was, he enjoyed their time while it lasted, and upon her departure for work, he sincerely wished to repeat it.

Now though, he was faced with another dilemma entirely. Leaning in the shadows by a small clothing-shop in the military sector, his eyes were locked on the hooded woman purchasing clothes. Tano did not, surprisingly, stand much out when her head was covered with but a simple cowl or hood, an Alliance uniform clothing her as any human woman. The shapes beneath the fabric might as well have been the latest fashion for all people would know.

Only he knew better. And she did too. But did she know that he knew? Who he was? There was no longer room for error.

He watched as she left the store, bags in hand, and waited for her to pass him by. He had chosen a spot which he knew she would have to come by, and had opted to simply wait. A small part of him was gratingly annoyed that women could spend so much time shopping for clothes, even Jedi.

"Operative Tano." He spoke slowly, demanding her attention in a non-threatening voice as she came close enough. She turned, eyes already widened as he felt her find him within the Force. She had not been on watch for Force-signatures, but he knew she could sense him now.

"…Colonel Kun?" she asked, her voice wary, yet also curious.

"Will you allow me a moment of your time?"

"Sure?" she put the bags down between her legs, crossing her arms over her well-endowed chest. He had always found it humorous that his Jedi and Sith colleagues of old had been among the most attractive women he had ever seen, yet they were all celibate. That had been a disappointing discovery once he crossed to the Dark side.

Still, he saw nothing but a child now. Not a potential for anything but a threat or neutral acquaintance.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, once more slowly; "You seemed very focused on me in the hangar yesterday."

"I… no, there was just…" she obviously failed to find the words, perhaps out of hesitation; "Has the Admiral mentioned something called 'the Force' to you?"

"She has."

"Well, I sense the universe in a way where the Force envelopes and surrounds everything and everyone, and…I just got confused when I picked up some really, _really_ bad vibes from you." So, she was _not_ aware of who he was? Yet, she had noticed the traces of the Dark side around him.

"The Dark side." He said, not a question but a statement.

"Wh-" the girl's eyes widened as her mouth stopped mid-speech; "…yes, it was…You know about the light and…the…Dark…" her eyes seemed to widen even further in realization, and not a tiny bit of fright as her fingers started gracing the hilts of her lightsabers. Twins, maybe linked, for all he could tell.

"I am not a threat to you, Tano." He said, wanting his voice to be reassuring. He laced it with persuasion from the Force, though he honestly doubted it mattered. The way she now stared at him, he ventured forth; "Do you know who I am?"

"Admiral Fisher's aide and confidante, Alliance Colonel…Gee- _Greek_, I think?" her voice was thick with uncertainty and suspicion, though her last words threatened a small chuckle in his chest. The situation quickly killed whatever humor he might have found though, as she continued; "I just don't know why the Dark side seemed so… clingy around you, unless…"

She stopped breathing for a long moment, then hissed as if he had struck her. Before Kun could even react, and he prided himself on a marginally better reaction-time than anyone else he'd ever met, the girl Force-flung him back into the wall. While glad that the wall was close enough that he didn't build up a real momentum, the impact did still rattle him. Looking into her eyes, he found wrath and determination, as well as not a small amount of lingering fright;

"Unless you're a SITH!"

"More or less the reaction I wanted to avoid…" he muttered, swatting down her Force-grip with relative ease. True, she was good, especially for her age, but compared to him, she had only speed. He had the real power; "Now, can we talk without you trying to smear me across the wall? As I already stated, I am not a threat to you. I also am not a Sith."

"_Who_ are you?" Tano demanded, body tensed for a jump. If it was at him or to flee, he didn't yet know.

"Exar Kun, Alliance Colonel and long-dead Sith Lord." He spoke calmly, as if he had just stated the weather; "I am, however, no longer affiliated in any way with the Dark side."

"Give me _one_ reason to believe you!" the Togruta's eyes flared with anger; "How did you even_ get_ here, let alone trick your way to influence? Oh wait, I just answered myself there."

"As for how I got here, even I do not know." He said, his voice a contrast to hers of anger; "I spent forty years in this body, so similar to the one I once held, before visions started assailing me, revealing to me the truth of my past and present. It was only then, that I knew who I really was. All before that was the life of a marine, simple in dedication to my superiors."

"And then I bet you started worming your way up, right?" he wasn't really surprised that her hand now rested firmly on the hilt of one lightsaber, ready to draw in the blink of an eye. Two, if you were a Kaminoan.

"I did not." the accusation somehow managed to anger him, he wasn't sure why; "By the time my life and memories returned, I was as I am now: a colonel in the Alliance navy. While I initially planned to serve the Sith in any way possible, events led me… down another path."

"What events?"

"You know of the Reapers." It wasn't a question; "When I realized what was at stake, what threat presented itself, the conflicts of my past life, along with its allegiances paled in comparison and became irrelevant. I am not one of your Light Jedi, never will be with the sins of my past, but I will stand for the life I have here. For the people I know here…" he hadn't meant to think of either the Admiral nor Ela, yet both came to mind; "Take that as you will, but understand that I will not hamper the efforts of your team."

The suspicion, anger and insult in her glare seemed to, not vanish, but lessen.

"I take it the Admiral doesn't know."

"No one but you are aware." He shook his head slowly, his expression going into once-more calm folds; "It would do no good for you to inform her either. Chaos and confusion is the absolutely last things she needs now. She does not have many people left to trust, and removing one would do irreparable damage."

The girl was silent, eyes locked with his for a long time. It seemed like a conflict was ongoing behind those blue orbs of hers. Confusion, suspicion, anger, hesitation and fear.

"Do you actually care?" the question was unexpected, and caught him slightly off-guard.

"More than you could ever realize, yes: I care a great deal for the people I have grown to see as colleagues, comrades, superiors and sometimes, as a family beyond blood." His voice was determined as he spoke; "I have served the Admiral for almost twenty years. You could never find a Jedi willing to sacrifice more for others than her, nor could you ever find a Sith willing to do what she has done to keep those around her safe."

"I…so, you are not a Sith?"

"Nor am I a Jedi." He cautioned; "I will, however, be keeping an eye on your progress. For too long have I been missing the perspective of others connected to the Force." Kun them simply walked past her.

"…Now I'm confused…" Tano said, causing a small, modest smile to appear on his lips as he turned to regard her.

"A duty of mine is to interview those brought to the taskforce from… alternative origins." The smile still played on his lips, mainly an effect of finally no longer feeling in risk from the girl's suspicions; "Consider this your interview, and a seal of approval for your functionality."

After he had left, Ahsoka remained where she was, looking at the wall she had hurled him at. Her mind was racing, trying to figure out what to make of the situation;

"I'm not even sure who interrogated who here…" she muttered, shivering slightly as the last traces of the Dark side vanished with the man. Force, she had been dealing with _Exar Kun_! One of the most infamous Sith Lords in recorded history, and he hadn't even tried to kill her!

Was this galaxy even more crazy than the one she had just left?

One thing was for sure though: she'd need to keep an eye on him.

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Mount Cadia, Civilian Sector

19:20

Mount Cadia was a restaurant in the finer parts of the Civilian part of Arcturus, meant for those in society who either didn't have to work or earned enough to afford wiping themselves with antique dollar-bills. The atmosphere was warm, the ambience perfect with the soft play of violins coming from a small orchestra in the center of the restaurant. Every table was covered with tablecloth probably worth more than the clothes on most people's backs.

Either way, it was not a place one usually saw soldiers or marines dine.

And yet, a pair of Alliance marines were doing just that. Very few of the other guests knew them, naturally, which was a given as those other guests usually didn't care much about the ongoings of the real world. One of the marines was the twenty-two year old soldier Thomas Vestergaard Fisher, a Danish member of a secret taskforce, just as the Sironan-Britto-Hispanic woman across from him.

Thomas had, outside of Ashley's knowledge, shared some certain plans with members of their team. He hadn't let anyone know that they were expecting a child some nine months from now, because _he_ was still having trouble comprehending _that_ one, but he had let them in on the plan he had laid for this very night. That said, he had known better than to attempt sneaking them all into the restaurant, for obvious reasons.

Ashley wasn't much of an attention-seeker. She'd likely die from shock if the entire team turned up and cheered. Well, 117 probably didn't _know_ how to cheer, and Boss would probably just salute, but still. At least nothing they did could be more awkward an uncomfortable than the silence he'd received when calling up Lucia Williams.

That had been yesterday, because he just wanted to get that bomb cleared out before anything else. He'd called up the residence, and had gotten Sarah on the line. She'd been chipper enough alright, like she had after the shock of their visit, and had put her mum on before Thomas even had the chance of bracing himself.

Needless to say, she had been surprised and stunned, he assumed, when he asked her permission to marry her daughter. Honestly though, she had reacted much better than he had dared hope for. Of course, there had been the extremely unnerving silence after he asked, with the sound like a chainsaw going through a table. Then, surprisingly and without even a new round of third-degree, she had said yes.

Wasn't that just about the weirdest thing the universe had done to him yet?

"So… mind telling me why we're spending your entire paycheck on this place?" Ashley's teasing question drew him out of thought, and back to looking at her. Sort of a mistake, because it was damn hard to look away again.

Ashley was dressed up, more so than usual. A midnight-blue single-piece dress that suited the place, combined with Ashley-style practical shoes instead of high heels and the necklace-piece of Heliotrope he'd given to her months ago. The black-metallic gleam of the stone paired nicely with the way the dress reflected the dimmed lighting of the restaurant. Well, 'nicely' was a heavily underplayed way of saying that she looked absolutely _stunning_.

Forcing down the waves of nervousness, he grinned secretly and poured wine, heavy stuff, into her glass. Gods, this was a night he'd damn well better go to the limits on, it was going to be the most important one of his life;

"Mmm." was all he said; "I just felt like doing something nice for you, is all."

"Well, I'll be damned if this isn't the fanciest place I've ever been, so you're doing well so far." She returned a grin of her own. Under the table, her foot had freed itself from the shoe and was stroking his pants, dark and well-pressed jeans for the occasion. He'd basically looked for the kind of clothes he'd been confirmed in. Vest, white shirt and shiny shoes, he remembered feeling like he'd been walking to the gallows back then.

Now, he felt it was fitting.

"Same here. So far the fanciest place I've been is the Sota restaurant back home…" he chuckled softly, a bit melancholically at his own words; "Place probably doesn't exist anymore."

"Sota?" Ashley mused the question, her soft lips pursed in curiosity.

"Sushi-place, great food but difficult to get a table, hence the fanciness." He replied, shrugging at her growing grin. He didn't know what he'd said that was so funny, but damn if he didn't love that warm grin of hers. He loved her. It wasn't even so much a fact as a… well, a state of being, he supposed. He honestly couldn't imagine a life without the woman before him, and the child growing within her.

That last thought was so surreal he would probably have trouble believing it until she started showing. Gods, it was as if every single thought about her pregnancy just sent his mind spinning further and further. He'd honestly never even considered it a possibility, yet, now here he was. And in nine months he'd probably be passing out on the floor with Ashley screaming in the room next door.

Yep, fun times ahead. Swallowing a lump of nervousness, and a slight bit of raw anticipation, Thomas put down his fork on the now-emptied plate, then softly, ever so softly, placed it over Ashley's own hand. Her skin was velvet and soft to the touch. Looking into her eyes, he saw the same orbs he'd fallen in love with on Eden Prime for what already felt like a lifetime ago.

Gods, he was going to do this. He could feel the small lump in his chest-pocket, feeling like it was hammering against his heart. His throat felt like it was made of dry parchment, his breathing failing as he tried starting the sentence he so desperately wanted to utter. To ask.

"I…A-Ash, there's… Do you remember the day we met?" he croaked out, fearing she might already know what he was going at. Not… not 'feared', but hoped she didn't know. He wasn't sure if he could proceed should she find out beforehand.

Ashley's expression grew both soft and thoughtful, her eyes looking inwards as she likely remembered the scene. He wasn't sure if she remembered finding him, or talking to him the first time. She nodded, smiling;

"You were flat on your ass, looking like a roasted turkey." She chuckled a bit at that; "Smelled like one too."

"…not, _exactly_ what I was going for." He muttered a bit sheepishly. Honestly he hadn't wanted to know he'd smelled like a done dinner when she first saw him. Made for… odd, images. It almost took away his internal fiddling.

"I know, I know." She shook her head and gave a soft laugh; "You wanted to know if I could see your eyes widen in awe when you saw me."

"Yeah, more or less that." He admitted, rubbing his neck. He knew he'd been in awe like a schoolboy back then, seeing a woman he'd never thought to meet but always wanted to.

"Well, you _did_ stare a lot, like_ a lot_." She mused, tapping a finger on her cheek in that musing, thoughtful manner that was so damnable adoring; "I figured you might be surprised at a woman in charge, or something like that. Still, you looked cute enough that I figured you just hadn't tried it before."

"Damn… sorry."

"Nah, it wasn't that bad." She waved him off, her sweet smile making him want to kiss her; "I mean, it was actually kinda nice to have someone _know_ about me before meeting me. And one who didn't have to meet me to not give a shit about the Williams-curse."

"Well, I kinda did meet you, or well, _knew_ about you for a long time." Thomas admitted. He wasn't entirely comfortable about that memory. Honestly, he just didn't like the whole fact that Hudson had been more or less witness to Ashley and… _right, not thinking about it_; "Okay, _not_ what I wanted to say."

"Mmmmmm?" the smile she cracked was a bit unsettling, like she found his embarrassment funny. In a way, he supposed it was. At any rate, he couldn't quite help the small quirk of his lips at her smile. It was one he had loved since the first time she displayed it to him.

"What I wanted to say, is…" he drew in air, as much as he could. Yet, it didn't feel like it was ever enough.

"Yes?" her head tilted a bit, she gained a more curious gaze in her eyes.

Thomas drew in more air, put his hands on the table. He looked her dead in the eye and drew in air again. Then, to the widening of her eyes, he scraped his chair out and got down on the floor. Kneeling, he found now, hurt his knee far more than it should a guy his age.

"…Thom?" her voice was barely a whisper, her hands spread across her lap. He looked up into her eyes, fishing out the small box

"I wanted to say, to know if… if you wouldn't terribly mind the thought of marrying me?" he asked. He wished his voice had been firm, showing his love and determination, but instead it was hoarse and barely above a whisper.

In all fairness though, Ashley's response wasn't even verbal. She just tackled him to the floor and started kissing him. Seeing how she'd ever only kissed him _this_ fervently in bed, he assumed she meant "Yes".

Although, his mind slowly processed, it was more likely a "Hell Yes!"

* * *

**Mmmmm, how you like dem apples? :)**

**Honestly, I think I have lost count of the amount of times I rewrote that last section, and I pretty much just threw everything I had at it. My soul, the very soul of this story, now rests in written form, here in Mount Cadia. Gods, but this was just difficult to write(I am allowed to admit that, right?) and I just hope you like it as much as I do. My muse certainly found it adorable, if nothing else but because he wants to examine mortal emotions. **

**Roku, yeah my muse, was the one who suggested the new name. And honestly, seeing how that dumb bugger is the reason the story ever happened, I supposed he could have that little bit of glory. Dude's got a superiority-issue, but meh, what can you do?**


	31. Love is in the Air

**So, we're in Wellington now, and just shot the new year in with John Williams masterpieces in a public demonstration of Kiwi awesomeness. Had music from Apocalypse Now, Jurassic Park and a lot of others. Dined in a fancy restaurant and ate a 33$ beef. Then we all got drunk and wandered the promenade: let me tell you, Wellington is GORGEUS at night.**

**So, to those of you in the same time-zone as me, that'd be the South Pacific one, as well as to everyone else that might happen to share the misfortune of suffering through this chapter (the suffering is only if you don't like fluff), I have here a chapter dedicated solely to fluff and a bit of smut, and a simple, yet often underestimated message:**

**HAPPY NEW YEAR!**

* * *

_The month of December was not what one would usually spend walking around in the sun. Usually, this months would be spent in thicker clothes, boots and preferably indoors: not wearing shorts, Nike shoes and short sleeved t-shirts. _

"_I…am…thirst." Lukas groaned, swinging his hoe over yet another unlucky thistle. The plant was shredded and spread across the grassy hillside, a few pieces coming close to hitting Thomas. The Dane looked at his partner-in-weeding, both standing on the farm-hill in New Zealand._

"_Thirsty." He corrected him. Both had taken something of a duty in refreshing the language-skills of the other, with Lukas correcting Thomas' German, and Thomas correcting Lukas' English. _

"_Thirsty." Lukas repeated, nodding as he swung the hoe again. _

"_Me too." Thomas wiped sweat of his brow, cursing the lack of cap; "You know what I could really go for now?"_

"_No?" _

"_Beer." Thomas rolled the word from his mouth; "A cold, glinting, golden beer. Steinlager, that's a good one. Best beer ever."_

"_Aha." Lukas replied; "I don't think I want beer. Just water."_

"_True, true." The Dane muttered, decapitating a larger plant with his own hoe. Damn thing was getting dull; "Still, might not be a good idea with beer right now. Can't take more than one, then I'm drunk."_

_Wasn't even kidding: Thomas had, despite his size, a terrible tolerance to alcohol. Usually all it took was a single beer to knock him tipsy, and two to put him asleep._

"_Only one beer?" Lukas asked, voice between curious and distant; "You're big?"_

"_Doesn't matter, I have a fucked up metabolism. Get drunk real easy, but I also get sober again faster than anyone else at a party." _

* * *

**Love is in the Air**

* * *

March 23rd

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Apartment rented by Ashley M. Williams and Thomas V. Fisher, Civilian sector

11:21

Hard carpet. Thomas wondered for a moment why his face was pressed cheek-first into a hard carpet. It was crass and wasn't at all very nice to lie on and why wasn't he in the bed and- Oh _gods_ why did his head hurt so much?!

Also, why was he half-naked, dressed in underpants and a shirt?

"…fffffffff…" Ow, because _ow_. His head was thundering like he was back being kicked around by Saren. Only he didn't feel on fire, and nothing seemed broken. Well, he supposed there was something to be said for small blessings, even if he currently didn't feel particularly _blessed_.

At least he seemed to be in the right apartment. Good, that meant he knew where to find painkillers. Still, he didn't really feel like getting up was a bright enough idea to try out. Mainly because he felt like his stomach was about ready to hurl if he even _thought_ about moving.

What had even happened last…_right_. Jane had hauled them all to one of the most expensive pubs on the station, which had surprised Thomas because he wasn't even _aware_ Arcturus had pubs, and then they'd all gotten piss-drunk, much to the annoyance of the other guests.

But why couldn't he remember _anything_ after that? Crap, what a night. Still…a smile spread on his pained expression as he recalled Ashley's response to his proposal. She'd knocked his head into the floor, but considering the floor was covered by a fine, thick carpet, he hadn't bother complaining. Plus, complaining would have meant removing his mouth from hers in order for him to speak.

Making his way to the bathroom, he could both hear and smell activity in their kitchen. Ashley was already up and about, huh? Not that it really surprised him. She was a career-soldier, whereas he was raised a civilian. She'd probably been drilled to rise at dawn even if it meant puking her guts out. He still remembered how she's demonstrated physical superiority on the sparring mats, even though he was both taller and heavier.

The pills, luckily, had been refined a lot since his days, and he swallowed one with a gulp of water. In his days, the effect would have taken a long time, if it was even there. All back in _his_ days. _My days_…_betrothed and expecting a child, I'm not even thirty yet. Damn_.

At least these days, a pill for headaches, and he could honestly not be bothered to read the name of the damn thing, worked like snapping your fingers. Even as he put the pills back onto the small shelf behind the mirror above the sink, he could feel both nausea and migraine vanish like water from a leaking bucket. Really, modern medicine was just about amazing. He wondered if they'd finally solved the problem with diabetes yet, or if treatment was still preferable to an actual cure.

Somehow, the latter really wouldn't surprise him.

Now free of the thundering hangover, Thomas grabbed his pants from the floor, (and why were they _there_?) allowed his nose to lead him out into the hallway, turned left and then right as he entered the kitchen. It was not _large_, per se, but it was sizable, and dwarfed the kitchen he'd had in his own apartment, back in Denmark. There was just about everything one could _need_ in a kitchen, and a stove which currently had Ashley standing by it. Curiously enough, it sounded like she was insulting the scrambled eggs. Thomas found it hard to repress a chuckle, so he settled for a happy sigh as he stood in the entrance, watching her.

Ashley, his fiancé – and what a thought that was – was wearing the loose-fitting cargo pants she'd bought once upon a time, bare feet and her black-laced bra while her hair hang down in a cascade of black. Gods, she looked like…he wasn't sure _what_, but definitely like the subject of a dream.

"Morning, Beautiful." He murmured softly as he stepped behind her, sliding his hands across her bare stomach. Her rippled stomach-muscles responded to his touch by vibrating as if cold, and her head dropped back onto his shoulder as he kissed her neck. He chuckled at her hitched breath; "Or should I call you 'fiancé' now? Really, it's your choice."

"Mmmm…Can't I be your 'beautiful fiancé'?" she laughed softly, one hand leaving the frying pan to grab behind his back; "I kinda like both."

Thomas paused, unsure of what to say. Perhaps confused at his silence, Ashley turned her head slightly to look at him from one eye, her hair tickling his cheek.

"Thom, something wrong?" she asked softly. One hand grabbing the control for the stove, she turned the heat off and turned to face him fully. His hands slid along her skin and ended up on her back. He held her like that, and she him, for a while.

"Sorry…" he sighed, dipping his head slightly to touch foreheads with her, meeting her eyes closely; "I just… guess it hasn't really sunk in yet."

"Pretty big?" she asked with a crease to her lip. Gods, _those_ _lips_, with their fullness, their soft, smooth surface and gentle touch. He remembered vividly those early days when he'd heat to the core at seeing her smile at him.

"Pretty _huge_, more like it." He nodded; "I suppose I could have been a bit more…_classic_ about the proposal. Maybe that would have helped?"

"On the contrary," she corrected him; "That was pretty much the best proposal ever." She brought both arms around his neck and laced her fingers together behind his head; "Oh yeah, and I phoned home and told them. Sarah screamed when I told them, but somehow, I had the feeling mum wasn't all that surprised."

"Ah…yeah, I sort of asked your mother for her permission." He admitted a bit sheepishly; "I got the impression last time that she wouldn't take well to being circumvented like that."

Ashley laughed, which, since she was right in his face, was a bit of a startling sound;

"In a million years, I don't think she _ever_ expected to be asked. Hoped, yeah, but _expected_ it? Nope."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?" he tried, cocking his head to the side as he looked at her; "I just figured, seeing how I lack family on _my_ side, I'd better be on good terms with yours."

"You really are something, you know that?" she said softly, a warm, amused smile on her lips as she closed in on him again, her mouth seeking his.

Thomas was more than willing to meet her in that one. Surprisingly, when her breath washed over him, she didn't taste of alcohol. There was a flutter of pride of happiness in his chest when he figured she was already taking the pregnancy into consideration. She really wanted this.

While her lips moved on his, sensually fitting with him like the pieces of a puzzle, his hands went beneath her hips and grabbed her buttocks. There was a sharp intake of air from her, and her exploring tongue smacked to the roof of her mouth. He grinned, touching his upper teeth against hers. She returned her tongue to the inside of his mouth, greeting his waiting tongue with what felt like renewed vigor. Emboldened, and turned on by the woman with him, Thomas lifted her up till she rested on his hands, waist against waist.

Refusing the break the kiss, he then marched them back into the bedroom, the scrambled eggs on the frying-pan all but forgotten.

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Military issued apartment, Civilian sector

08:22

The world reappeared with the taste of bad breath, alcohol that had long-since stopped influencing him and the smell of foreign shampoo that was _definitely_ not his.

It also came back into being with the feeling of something heavy on top of him. Seeing how opening his eyes would just be too much of a bother, plus he kinda feared seeing light would spark his hangover, because by God he was having a hangover, Nicolai instead tried relying on his other senses to figure out the world.

Aside from the new and strange smell of shampoo, which was somehow _still_ familiar, there was the feeling of regular gusts of soft wind on his chest, which meant he'd fallen asleep naked again. Dammit, what if someone kicked in his door and he'd be naked as a wee baby? The universe really had to up itself these days, whatever that meant. Aside from the gusts of wind, he could also feel something oddly…soft, in the heavy thing on top of him. Someone must have dumped…_something_ on top of him while he slept, and then probably drew stuff on him as well, seeing how he'd once woken up with Hillary's signature all over in black marker. God, that woman was annoying sometimes.

A new sensation that started making itself known was an _ache_ in his hips, particularly his groin. Great, had someone _kicked_ him in the balls while he'd slept? Damn, that'd have to be one fuck-ton of a hangover if he hadn't woken up from a kick to the onions. _Piss…I need a shower…_

Just as he was about to start shrugging off the weight on him, a tired moan from _said weight_ made him freeze. He could feel how every single nerve in his body tensed up, snap-froze and then caught fire as the _weight_ shifted on him. He could feel movement, something scratching something and a change in the gusts of wind.

He could also feel a heartbeat that was _not_ his own.

"Oh…" he started, not daring to open his eyes.

"…_Shit_…what…" an all too familiar voice seemed to finish for him. There was a hint of Hispanic to the accent, and the gusts of wind- _breath_! – now smelled a bit like more alcohol. _God, please don't do this. Please! I wanna live!_

Because he'd recognized the voice without even opening his eyes. And now, knowing it was a person, namely a _woman_ on top of him, he realized why the weight felt so _smooth_.

"_Hijo de…_What's…what?...What." the other person froze, having seemingly realized the same thing he just had. He could feel his heart starting to beat hard enough to break his ribs, which would actually be preferable to having them broken in a moment when _she_ realized who he was; "Oh…_Joder_!"

Knowing he was pretty much a corpse no matter _what_ he did, Nicolai dared opening his eyes. It was something of a mistake, really, as it meant he started the morning staring straight into a pair of ample breasts, hanging a bit above his face. He forced his eyes upwards, ending up looking straight into the alcohol-dulled, yet currently wide open eyes of Teresa Aquila.

Teresa was in his bed.

And she was naked.

And, he could suddenly feel: so was he;

"Oh…_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuu…_" he groaned, throwing his head backwards into the pillow. He was pretty much prepared for her to punch him in the head and flee now. Unconsciousness would be a bliss over having to figure out_ what the FUCK happened._

"Well…I'm here already." Those words caught him a bit by surprise, though _not_ nearly as much as when he suddenly felt her lips brush against his. His eyes snapped open in surprise, staring straight into Teresa's. There was something of a resigned expression in them, but her lips bore a thin smile, which then widened into a grin. It was, to put it mildly, _not_ what he had expected to happen.

"What…?"

His eyes widened further, followed by his pulse increasing its pace when Teresa lowered her lips down next to his ear, just brushing his skin with the faintest of touches. It was as if the world had simply _stopped_.

He could feel how his heart started hammering even more violently in his chest, how sweat was starting to pour over his naked chest and how his fingers itched and danced, grabbing the sheets of his bed. His body responded to hers, and much as he somewhat _wanted_ to hide it, doing so was rather difficult when the clearest sign of her effects on him was starting to stand vertically, and thus brushed against her stomach. Every single sensation came in at once, even while his mind processed the sounds escaping those full lips by his ear.

"I've seen the way you've looked at me, you know." She whispered, her voice a deep mix of that sensual accent, and desire tangled with inner strength. His breathing almost stopped when she spoke, and one hand, definitely _not_ his, started moving across his bare chest; "Oh, I've _definitely_ seen the way you've looked at me, Nikolai."

Shit.

"Tere- I- when did- why are we-?" Dammit, now of all times? Why was this even such a bitch, he'd gotten laid plenty of times, why was his heart trying to ram his ribs out the wrong way? And for fuck's sake, what was up with the speech-impairment now all of a sudden? Shit, he wasn't ready for this. Not. At. All.

It wasn't even like he _didn't_ want… well, whatever was apparently about to happen. He knew she was right, Lord knows, he'd been fantasizing about her practically since the day she stepped onboard the Normandy. But that'd all just been fantasizing. Imaging her when he'd been alone. That was one thing, it was _safe_.

"Why? Why what?" Oh God, there was _no_ way he was misinterpreting her. The main fact that she was _naked_, that _he_ was naked, that she was touching his chest all over –which was nice, true – and that she was acting like this. It was nearly impossible for him_ not_ to know where this was headed. His thought-process stopped when her lips bit down softly on the tip of his ear, a bubbling laughter escaping her as a whisper; "Oh, you mean why are you in _my_ apartment and naked?"

What. _Goddammit hands! You're tearing up the sheet!_

He swallowed; "Yes?"

Teresa pouted, a mock-gesture that made her look surprisingly like a tanned version of Hillary, which was in itself a seriously disturbing thought. He noticed how her usual ponytail was undone, brown hair hanging all over the place like a cascade. Every breath he took was filled with her scent, her way of being her. There was that special shampoo he knew she used – she'd forgotten it on her cot one day while showering – that smelled like spices and terracotta. There was the smell of metabolized alcohol on her breath, combating the pleasantness of her shampoo with its acidity. Her brown eyes still showed signs of alcohol, slightly enlarged pupils that sent heat roaring through his abdomen.

"You mean you don't remember either?" and here the pout turned into her laughing again, a sound he wasn't quite sure was her laughing at _him_ or the situation. Maybe it was both, and she laughed at the unreality of it all. Her face rose above his again, that same sultry smirk on it as he'd so often fantasized about. Still, the laughter served to shake him a little out of the anxious stupor, and reddened his cheeks;

"I don't remember…anything." He admitted, trying to look above her chest. Which was really damn hard. Because those things were _right there_, and just _Right_. _There_. Hanging in the air. Right there. He could practically touch them with his nose, if he tried. Which, currently, he wasn't going to; "Ehm…Teresa?"

"Mmm?"

"Not…to be a complete dick about it, but…are we going to…you know?" he tried, gesturing vaguely at the general positions they were each in. him on the bed, naked as the day he was born sans socks, and her on his chest, one hand constantly doing small trips across his hardened muscles.

Her eyes regained a bit of normalcy at that, and the playfully sultry grin became more serious.

"You don't want to?" she asked, something in her voice making him question just _what_ had happened that night. When he didn't immediately reply, mainly because his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, she slid off his chest and tumbled down next to him, one hand still on his chest; "I just assumed, with how we woke up that… _que hablais_, you would just take the initiative?"

"I…" he licked his lips nervously, glancing at her naked body next to him. Her skin was on his, and every semblance of modesty of shyness was abandoned wordlessly. He wanted to touch her, he wanted it so badly. Just, just to run a hand over her side, feel her skin beneath his palm, feel her goose bumps beneath his fingers; "I mean, I…What did you mean when you said you've seen… me… _look_ at you?"

Dammit, why couldn't he just say 'Yes, I want sex with you' and let that be it?

A playful glint appeared in her eyes again, that _hand_ of hers going a bit further down his chest, running over the rippling muscles that were his abdomen. He sucked in his breath when she started using her nails, scraping his sweaty skin. God, was it just _hot_ in here or what?

"Please, you're not the first man that's been staring at my ass." She laughed and poked him in the stomach just hard enough that it hurt a bit. Her eyes grew thoughtful then; "First one who hasn't been making comments or a move from it though…And, I may have been looking at _your_ ass too. You know, just… it was _there_ and…stuff."

"And…stuff?" he asked confused, one hand wanting to touch her form. His eyes found hers, the question silently asked between them. There was a moment's hesitation, then her chin dipped just enough that it was a nod.

"Mmmm. _Stuff_." She repeated, eyes now on his hand as it slowly, cautiously moved to rest the most innocent place he could figure out to put it: just above her hip, where an old scar went from lower left side of the waist and to just below the knee.

"I just…didn't expect to…" he murmured, experimentally starting to move down to her hip. The armor and even the uniform had hidden one fact remarkably well: _broad_ hips. They were curvy and rose up from her comparatively more narrow waist. Nikolai had been with girls before, but honestly? He was a little in awe right about now.

"To what?" she mused, propping herself up on an elbow without disturbing his hand; "Fucking me and then forget what even happened? Yeah, me neither."

"I was going to say 'do it before I'd even taken you on a date', you know…" he muttered, putting on his best smile. he wasn't sure how well it came across, as her expression grew almost _somber_. Damn, _not_ the intention.

"You are a real kid sometimes, you know that?" she asked, her eyes remarkably soft when he looked at them in slight confusion. He was honestly now utterly confused: did she want sex or didn't she? The way she acted, he was starting to think she herself didn't know how to go about it either.

Pretty much the ideal situation. Said no one _ever_.

"Hey, I'm twenty-four." He retorted, hand stopping where it had reached her buttocks. His hand was just _itching_ to grab it, to feel her skin and flesh mold beneath him. He looked at his hand, back at her and then back at his hand again. With a mental shrug that said 'I've come this far', he grabbed the exposed buttock, and pressed her hips slightly, ever so slightly towards his. When his eyes wandered, he was somehow not all that surprised to discover her shaved. In a way, it went well with her general personality, though he wasn't completely sure just how.

"Twenty-eight. I went to preschool before you were even born." She countered, running a finger down his side. He shivered at the touch.

"Hey, raise your hand if you were born _before_ the current date?" he grinned a little, running the hand on her hip upwards while raising the other into the air with a small wave; "I think I win with a few centuries."

But Teresa _didn't_ raise her hand. Instead, she lowered her hand from his waist, grabbing a hold of where he had _not_ expected her to grab. The touch alone sent his heart rocketing again, and the firmness of her grip made him kick his feet into the bed and his breath to completely vanish from the depths of his lungs.

Holy Shit!

"You been with a lot of girls?" she asked, hand starting to stroke him up and down. Fighting for air, he rolled back onto his back, the free hand grabbing the sheets for all he was worth. God, she'd only just _started_, and he was already throbbing.

"I…I have been…with _some_?" he wasn't quite sure why she was asking, but the soft look in her eyes was gone now as she started leaning over him for a better grip, replaced with desire running rampant. He could only lie there, lie there and look into her eyes as her hand worked up and down on him, each time bringing him closer to the edge; "God!"

"Did they ever do this?" she asked coyly, gripping him just a little more firmly as she went. Nikolai grabbed the sheets, fearing he might end up ripping them to shreds as his other hand instinctively kept a hold of her buttocks where he'd grabbed it. His head was constantly raised, looking between her face, etched with concentration, and her hand as it went up –down –up – down on his hard erection. She spat, using her own saliva between her fingers to make him even more slippery. The action nearly did him in right there. Each time she went to the root of his shaft, he felt like buckling upwards, pressing himself more into her grasp.

"Not- Not like- Oh _Fuck_!" he exclaimed hoarsely, fighting his own body at this point. Said body wanted nothing more than to give in right then and there, to simply let go and release it all; "T-Teresa, I can't hold it-!"

From the perspective of endurance, that was about the worst thing he could possibly have said. Letting him go with her hand, Teresa then closed her lips around the tip of his throbbing member. Her tongue coming down inside, testing the top of his erection inside her damp, warm mouth. If her hand on him had been an explosion of physical pleasure, this was Teresa dropping a _nuke_ on him.

Her eyes looked up into his, a positively hungry look in them as she started moving up and down. Not as fast as before, but instead slowly, taking her time to practically torture him with pleasure. He could feel how her tongue licked around the tip of his shaft every time she came up, and he felt how he brushed against the roof of her mouth when she pressed herself down around him again.

"Oh God! Oh- God!" it felt like he was ready to explode. His member throbbed with both pain and pleasure, and he could feel how small waves of release were already powering through his best attempts at holding back; "Te- Teres- I can't hold it- more!"

Her eyes found his, brimming with desire. God, had she always been this beautiful? Had she always wanted… wanted _him_? He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe what his eyes, his skin, his erection and his brain was telling him. He could barely keep himself contained, but instead of stopping, Teresa just continued, a lustfilled shine to her eyes that begged for him.

Her mouth came down upon him again, lips closed tight as she sucked her way back up. Inside, her tongue danced on the tip of his hard erection, lapping up the burst he failed to contain. They were small, yet each time her tongue's touches came upon him, it felt like he was in Heaven and Hell both simultaneously. His hand left her ass and grabbed hold of the back of her head, clutching her brown mess like his life depended on it. When her head, this time halfway guided by his own hand, came down again, his barriers broke.

"TERESA!" his shout came out hoarse as he spilled into her mouth. He clutched both legs around her back, pulling her lower body onto his legs as he filled her mouth with his essence. Eyes, slightly surprised by his actions, closed in obvious delight as he could feel her swallowing. She hadn't even let go of him yet, and he just watched her as she grabbed his sides with both hands, keeping him in her mouth. His head then fell back, exhaustion taking over.

"God…I can't believe that just…" he struggled to find the words, deprived of blood as his brain was; "_came_ out?"

Even as his erection fell, Teresa's mouth slowly opened and let him go. He watched in silence as she wiped a bit of white from her lips, licking it from her sweat-coated forearm. Her eyes were still closed as she started crawling upwards, towards his face. The thought somehow struck him that kissing her now would taste a little odd, though his brain was still bloodless enough that the notion didn't really stick.

But Teresa didn't stop when her head reached his. She continued crawling upwards, until at first her breasts were above his face, then her abdomen. Letting out a sigh of happiness, she lowered herself until her buttocks were resting firmly on his chest, her shaved opening mere inches from his face. He could count the folds, see where tiny hairs were starting to grow their way back out. Dragging his eyes from her core, his gaze wandered up her body until he found himself looking into her eyes.

"Your turn." She murmured softly, yet with clear demand in her tone, and pressed her center closer to his face; "I want you to taste _me_ too."

A slight grin, born of lightheadedness and orgasmic pleasure, spread on his lips;

"Yes, Ma'am."

* * *

March 23rd

Omega, Sahrabarik system

Blue Suns Compound, Armory.

18:22

"What?" her voice was a bit difficult to hear over the sound of electrical welding. Curiously enough, most industrial plasma-cutters and saws were almost soundless, but the one he was currently using made just as much noise as the ones in use back in the early twenty-first century. The whole thing was jacked into the wall's supply of ionized gas, and took a war and a half to warm up for use.

"There's something I want to… to show you." Tara repeated, her voice as low as the first time she'd spoken.

Magnus nodded slowly, putting down the welder he'd been using to repair some damage to one of the heavy bolters. The gun-emplacement had been shot during the latest Blood Pack charge, and something in the firing-mechanism was jammed. It wasn't the Eezo-lines, he knew that much at least. If it was, he wouldn't go within a mile of the damn thing.

"Okay, lead the way then." He smiled at her, gesturing for her to lead on, dropping the heavy gauntlets on the bench next to him. While Tara was more or less _always_ in armor, even while off duty, he was right now just wearing light fatigues and a shirt, to make up for the heat of both the plasma, and Omega in general.

As they walked through the compound in relative silence, Magnus found that even watching her glorious hips from behind wasn't enough to distract him from the question burning in his mind. No mistake to be made, he _loved_ her hips. The way she walked, he could sometimes knead those divine buttocks before his inner eyes, and the images always made his throat dry.

"So, can I ask what it is?" he tried, walking up next to her. The odd combination of two-toed mag-boots and civilian soles resounded through the corridors as they walked past one of their medical clinics. While not free-of-charge like the one Solus was running somewhere in the neighboring district, it was still cheap enough that the people living within Suns territory could afford both to pay taxes and to go for treatment. Hel, it was almost Alliance standards, and a helluva lot cheaper than the ones found on Earth. For some reason, every country but a few in Scandinavia and the Mid-east had adopted the American version of healthcare. Idiotic, in his opinion, but what could he do?

"It's ehm… I found it when I was… walking and…I thought maybe…" her mumbling and obvious reluctance to share the details made him just all the more curious. Manus had known Tara for almost half a year now, and had been infatuated with her for at least half of that time. He liked to think he knew when she was embarrassed by something, and this very much sounded like that 'something'.

"Maybe?" he tried.

"I can't…_say_ it here, and ehm, I really wan- _think_ it's better to show it instead of telling."

"Ah." He nodded with pretended understanding; "It's one of those 'dirty little secrets', is it?"

The way she almost fell flat from his words meant he had at least hit the general area. It was something intimate then, he suspected. Something she couldn't share with him in words, or at least didn't want to say aloud when others could be around.

"N-no, no, no! Why would you even- I mean, there's nothing _dirty_ about it and" She stopped to bonk her helmet face-first into the closest wall; "…_Kheelah,_ this isn't really going my way, is it?"

"I don't know." He said, stepping closer to hug her form. He could feel how she stiffened for a second, then melted into his arms. The way she just _fit_ with him made him dry with desire, and often caused the biggest case of blue balls known to man. At least, he was fairly sure they were; "I'm still here, and Omega hasn't exploded yet. We're doing _something_ right, which means _you _are doing something right."

"…Bosh'ted." She muttered without mirth. A thing he had found about Quarians, or just Tara, was that when _really_ comfortable, they purred like cats. Needless to say, the discovery had baffled him a little. Plus he found it damn cute; "I was supposed to be scared to death here. You _completely_ ruined my nervous mood. Just so you know."

"And why, pray tell," he slid his arms around her waist; "were you supposed to be scared to death? I haven't seen any Vorcha around, and Harius would have comm'd if the Scorpio had been blown up." He settled his chin softly in the start of her Realk, the only place not covered in armor, light as it may be.

"_Gil dem gim, Magnûs, _I…ehm…I mean I want to…" she forced herself, clearly reluctantly, out of his embrace and pushed him away with the obvious posture of one who'd much rather just stay where she was; "Come, it's just around the corner."

A curious frown on his face, the Icelandic nodded and followed wordlessly, trying to figure out why his translator had botched during her first words. Maybe it was because Kheelish wasn't really covered on anything more than a basic program, which in turn was why you'd constantly hear Quarians utter curses and phrases that the translator just didn't catch. It could also be an older dialect, or just a less used one, which could make even human language fail epically when trying to understand what someone from Luxemburg or Svalbard said.

His curiosity was heightened again when he recalled their location in the compound. The next corner would, according to the browned maps hanging around in paper-format, hold a short alley with the old quarantine-facilities, an Omnigel-dispenser and…well, nothing more really.

"Okay, it's in here." Tara pointed at the old quarantine-facilities. Magnus' brows lifted when he realized the facilities had clearly been refurbished to the point of usability again, and that they now held a flashing neon-sign spelling 'Extra-envirosuit facilities'.

What.

"Tara?" he asked, feeling a certain…sensation creep through him. He wasn't really sure if it was a good or a bad sensation, but it was definitely not a normal one. His Quarian girlfriend didn't answer though, and instead led him through the doors. There, she stopped in what looked suspiciously like the decon-chamber of the Normandy, just a little bigger and without an airlock on the other side.

"Okay…I…I need to ask you something Magnus, and…it's got to be asked in Kheelish-Anel, which means you probably won't understand it and that'll be _extremely_ awkward and you'll ask and I'll have to repeat it and…Kheelah, this is bad- or, I mean I'm _bad_ at this, not that..."

"Tara." Magnus grabbed her shoulders gently, but with enough firmness that he'd hopefully end her babbling-session. She sort of had a habit of launching into one of those when she was really nervous. Hadn't Tali done that too? Did that mean it was a general Quarian thing? "Chill. Deep breath, then ask." He chuckled faintly; "I mean, it's not like you're telling me you're pregnant or anything, I mean we never…"

The way her babbling and fidgeting stopped, made his words fall flat in his mouth. Oh. Shit! _But how the- I mean we never even- not even the mask, how could she be-?!_

"_Edêksle, gêj Ta'ra'Velan vas Scor'pio nar Qwib-Qwib. Ûd re _mine_, n'id pôrk re _mine. And_ âap emmas siv, _my_ pôrk rerôhlit _you. Magnûs_, gil dem gim._" When she was finished, Magnus had picked up about three or four words, and that was because he counted in the 'Ta'ra' name as her usual name. Damn.

"Okay…I don't really want to be anal about this, because it's pretty obvious you're nervous, but…What by Loki did you just say?" he wasn't sure what to do with his hands, so he just put them behind his neck and hoped he could deduce what she'd meant. Because_ Damn_, her whole speech sounded like something Tolkien could gave written.

Tara, instead of immediately replying, palmed the interface next to them. Instantly, a soft chime revealed the start of a decontamination, and Magnus could feel his heartbeat up its pace just a bit. What the Hel was…no, mentally cursing wasn't going to help, and besides, it sounded like saying what she had said borderline _killed_ her with fright. This in turn, made _him_ nervous. Was she saying they were done?

"I…I said…Kheelah, this was so much _easier_ in my head." Both hands came up to her faceplate as the decontamination chimed 'done', but instead of simply palming her face, Tara's next actions made the blood catch fire in his veins: she unsealed her helmet.

"Holy…" he breathed, not fully capable of processing what he saw. As the decon ended, and Tara's fingers worked around the hasps of her visor, the door behind her opened to what looked like a medical bay, only it was devoid of instruments, and instead held a large, flat mattress lying on a spotless white floor, and plenty of odd-looking pillows.

With a hiss, the visor came loose, softly prided off by its owner. Magnus wasn't really sure if he was in awe or simply dumbfounded at this point. Behind the opaque glass, a pair of luminous silver eyes met his. The orbs fluttered, dancing nervously as if afraid to look straight ahead. A light-grey, perky nose was perfectly centered just between the eyes and the thin, delicate lips, frowned in a terrified attempt at smiling. Tara's nostrils flared as she breathed heavily, and the mask fell to one hand as she opened her mouth, trying to form words.

"…Aesir…" he breathed, taken aback. Because damn straight he was taken aback. He was looking at Tara's face for the first time ever, and she was…she was…_she's absolutely gorgeous._

"Beloved…" she started, and the tone made him realize she was now repeating what she'd just said before; "I am Tara'Velan vas Scorpio nar Quib Quib. Your soul is mine. Your body is mine. And likewise…" she breathed, even as Magnus was fairly sure he'd just lost the ability to do the same; "likewise, my soul is yours, and my body is yours. Will you lie with me, Magnus?"

What was it people said about offers you couldn't refuse? He wasn't sure, because frankly, his brain had stopped working at the time the visor had come off. His hands hung by his side, useless as there lacked a functioning brain to guide them.

"I…I…Tara, we already…I mean, we share the same…" he wanted to say that they already shared the same cot when they had overlapping time off, but somehow his words just stopped forming. He was completely washed away in the pair of silvery irises looking at him with such an intensity that his mind went numb, allowing him only to form a low; "…Oh…"

"It is…customary that the man is the one asking, but you didn't know that and I wasn't even sure if you _wanted_ to and I just…Kheelah, I probably just completely botched it, didn't I?" Tara exclaimed pathetically, her eyes downtrodden with a hint of desperation to them. Magnus, despite what most thought actually _possessed_ a soft spot, gently took her chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing her to look back up at him.

Aesir, those eyes. She had the gaze of a creature beyond this world. A pure, innocent gaze that held none of the evil this galaxy had been dealing out. They were almost angelic in the depths of their purity. His heart pretty much melted away just from looking into them.

"Tara." He asked, his tone gentle but firm; "are you asking me to have sex with you?"

"I…yes, I am." She whispered; "Kheelah, this is _so embarrassing!_"

"I could see why you'd be nervous, with the health-risks, but…" he hesitated, taking in every detail of her face. She looked, for a lack of better description, like an elf. As her fidgeting with her seals caused the Realk to drop down behind her head, he could even make out pointy ears beneath a tangled mess of purple hair; "Were you afraid I would reject you?"

"I- I don't know, I mean, we're different species and outside the suit I might look enough like a human that yo- people wouldn't think about it." She looked down into his hand beneath her chin; "Without the suit it's… different. People realize you're something _else_, and they just…I mean, I don't know if I'm ugly or, or…in human eyes or a Turian's or…and that's a good thing about a relationship _outside_ the suit where it's just…just…ju-just me and…"

A small tear was making its way down her cheek, ending its journey on the warm skin of his hand. Magnus' eyes widened a little when he realized she was crying, and he let the hand slip out from her chin. When she seemed ready to babble again, to think she was anything but absolutely _stunning_, he pulled her into a tight embrace, resting his scruffy cheek against the smooth skin of hers.

"You- you don't need to _comfort_ me, Bosh'ted." She stuttered heatedly before he managed to speak; "I just wanted you to see what was- what was _behind_ that damn visor! I'll just put it on again and we'll pretend I never even asked and-"

Magnus decided to interrupt her by the simplest means possible. He kissed her.

"W-what?" she managed to breath in shock as he withdrew his lips from hers. She tasted salty, and with a sensation that was so alien, yet so completely _right_ that he just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Tara." He said, the firmness in his tone making her silent; "My people have long had stories, tales and legends about mythological beings of great beauty. We called them elves, and they were said to be the most stunning creatures ever sprung forth from the wells of creation." Her luminous eyes widened in confusion as he spoke, granting him silent permission to continue; "Usually, they would be depicted with slightly elongated, sharp ears," he gently reached a finger and ran it along the smooth surface of her ear. It was harder than a humans, and stirred when he touched it; "their skin would be grey as the night, or white as the purest snow." His finger traced the line beneath her jaw. The muscles stirred slightly at his touch; "Their hair would be the color of the sun, or dark as the night, and the most rare would have the color of obsidian."

"…Obsidian?"

"A purple type of stone renowned for its beauty and endurance." He explained; "and above all else, their eyes would be the most beautiful sight a man could ever gaze upon. Sometimes, in stories of romance and eternal love, the elven girl would have eyes that shone like the stars themselves."

"…I…I'm not…sure what…Are you saying I look like one of those elvs?"

"_Elves_, Tara." He corrected her with a laugh at seeing her slightly more flustered expression. He hadn't even realized they'd moved inside the room, though it was probably while she had been babbling a mile a second; "Tara. You are nothing if not absolutely stunning. Ancient humans would have seen you and believed they saw someone stepping out from myths of old."

"So…So, I'm…You like how I look?" the surprise and disbelief in her voice was at the same time amusing and yet made him cringe. That she, a creature of such beauty, held so little confidence and self-esteem, it must be a symbol of just how wrong the galaxy was.

"Yes." He figured being short might be better.

Though in retrospect he should have considered it a possibility, he hadn't figured she would pounce.


	32. Blue-blooded murder

**Greetings true believers**

**Alright...this chapter just kicked me in the face whenever I wanted to write ANYTHING but Targnus-scenes. Dunno why, but if you notice those being the only good ones here, that's why.**

**I always find it hilarious when characters I created for the simple reason that, well, I _could_, turn out to have that kind of impact in the story. Tara being a good example: with her in the story, there was grounds for the Blue Suns revolutions, which in turn means better Blue Suns, which in turn means the Blue Suns on Omega are closer to actual cops, rather than mercenaries killing for money.**

**Another example would be Anna, as you have all probably guessed already. Anna was created because I at first had Hannah Shepard enter the room to promote Thomas, but then I was so flooded with doubts and realized that I just wouldn't be able to make it work, and so Anna was made. and in turn, Humanity suddenly got a lot more badass, which in turn means the Alliance took in the Quarians, which in turn means the Alliance got that much more _powerful_, and thus was able to separate itself from the Council, instead of scraping to its every whim.**

**...Should I rename this whole thing "Butterfly Effect"? Seems like that's the effect at play right now, at least...Nah, we'll stick with how things are.**

* * *

**Blue-blooded murder**

* * *

March 24th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Office of Admiral Anna Fisher, Military section.

12:32

Ballpoint pens.

How come, in the two _hundred_ years, since their development, that _ballpoint pens _hadn't changed in the absolute least?

The pen between her thumb and index-finger, tapping against her desk, was a ballpoint pen looking _exactly_ like the ones you could go see in the museums. It had the same ink, the same plastic, the same design: really, there was _nothing_ about it that had changed or advanced in _two_ _fucking_ _centuries_.

And in a sad way, that was a pretty good metaphor for the overall galaxy.

Anna had once looked at recordings showing the Asari's first landings on the Citadel, then a derelict space-station floating quietly in the mists of the Serpent Nebula. She had been sadly surprised when she realized that both the armor, weapons and technology of the ancient Asari was all _still in use_!

More than a thousand years later, and the Asari still used hardsuits, still used Omnitools, and still used weapons based on mass effect technology. Same with the Turians, and same with the Salarians.

And until just recently, _same with Humanity_.

"I must admit, for some reason I do not really _look_ _forward_ to returning to the Citadel." Sparatus sighed. The Turian was standing with his side to her desk, hands behind his back as he looked at one of the old paintings decorating her wall. The painting in question was a watercolor of the Arcturus Fleet, arriving over Shanxi while a pair of human soldiers in old hardsuits were kneeling on a grassy hillside, Avengers wielded by them both; "Neither Tevos nor Esheel has yet reported me missing."

"One would almost think they didn't know, huh?" Anna replied with a smile that could almost be called 'satisfied'. Sparatus didn't avert his eyes from the painting; "Or maybe _they_ did it?"

"Or maybe I am just not missed." He grumbled under his breath; "There is a reason I have not made use of my sick-days since the Battle. Tevos is…she is taking the lead in the Council, and Esheel is behind her. I fear it is only a matter of time before she pushes for my retirement."

"Can she do that?" she asked with curiosity. Honestly, she wasn't sure how the Council worked behind the stage, so Sparatus opening up on the last day of his 'vacation', was a welcome lesson.

"If the majority of the Council, regardless of its overall membership-count, declares a lack of trust in a member of the Council, publically that is, that member risks expulsion." There was a growl in his voice, made all the more menacing by the flanged tone it took on; "Admiral, when I took the seat on the Council, I trusted its integrity completely, and distrusted everything _you_ or Anderson would say on sheer principle…"

"That's not very nice…" Anna frowned, then turned a smirk just to pretend she'd completely missed his point about _her_; "Anderson's a good guy. Can't find 'em more decent."

"It is a sad day, when my views have been turned around like this…" he finally turned his head to face her; "I suspect my own colleagues of dealing behind my back, and my greatest ally is more and more turning out to be you, Admiral."

"What about Fedorian?"

"Fedorian…The Primarch stopped listening to me the day I told him the truth about the Reapers." Sparatus' voice held so _much_ regret and frustration that Anna actually winced. She wasn't sure why; "When he then later asked the Council as a whole what the truth about the Reapers was…"

"I'm guessing something went bad." She sighed, looking up at him with eyes devoid of humor.

"Tevos told him… _Tevos told him _that it was the 'view of the Council' that the Reapers were simply very advanced AI's, and that their threat ended with Sovereign." His small eyes _burned_; "I need to do something,_ anything_, to set the Council right…Spirits, I hate my job…"

"That reminds me," Anna snapped her fingers and sent the pen flying; "I have something for you, seeing how you're here anyway."

"Something for me?" Sparatus cocked his head slightly. Anna dialed in the numbers; "…is this something connected with the Reapers?"

"No, actually it's to do with spirits." She replied, her expression serious; "Sparatus, I have been in the navy for over forty years. I have learned to believe what I see, to accept reality for what can be hit by a bullet, and to disregard faith or miracles whenever something happened that I couldn't immediately explain…"

"I am sensing an epiphany approaching…"

"Actually you had the same epiphany as me, roughly what, seven months back now?" she picked a new pen out of a pocket and started tapping it on the desk. In that way, she was a bit like Jack and his cigarettes; "an Aspect, a spirit from ancient times on Earth, decided to make a host of Service Chief Thomas Fisher."

"Roku, yes, I remember." Sparatus nodded, likely remembering their last conversation about spirits. Only this time, Anna could bring physical, hands-on stuff to the table; "Though he is to you what Nanus is to us."

"The Firebird, yes." She nodded in turn; "I've seen the formation. I'm still wondering how you kept that one from the Asari. Still, to go back to the point of my epiphany, I have had scientists pulling all-nighters to accomplish something so impossible, I decided it might as well be done."

"I'm listening." The Turian was now fully turned towards her, painting seemingly forgotten.

* * *

March 24th

Omega, Sahrabarik-system

EES-facility, Blue Suns compound

20:11

Feeling a dozing woman's head resting on his naked chest, was a sensation Magnus had honestly believed he would never experience again after losing Jane. He hadn't even been particularly upset about the prospect, back then.

Tara shifted her head a little, her neck-length purple hair almost glued to her skin from sweat. Magnus smiled at the sight, also idly happy that the clean-room was warm. The temperature in there meant he didn't have to worry about freezing when completely naked. It also meant that her drooling on his chest wasn't getting him cold. It would probably begin itching at some point though.

Tara...

Tara had, he supposed, been what he had needed to realize that life was actually still worth living. She had come into his existence, pretending to be something she wasn't, and had for a while actually made him believe she was nothing but another timid pilgrim. The illusion hadn't lasted long, but that wasn't the point either.

The point had long been that he had entrusted her with his past, and she had been worthy of his trust. Not only that, but she had in turn soon after decided to come clean with him as well. If the whole process hadn't been so hard on his sleep-schedule, and traumatizing at a few points too, it would have been funny.

Now, he was content with reality. It had been a long time since the last time he could honestly have claimed that, but he was now. Resting on a mattress, feeling Tara's naked skin on his, her body weighing down on him. While he was stark naked, Tara was still wearing underwear - a piece of black fabric clinging to her waist in ways that left little to the imagination - mostly for the simple reason that while she needed to adapt to him – and Freya, had she _adapted_. With her mouth especially – actual intercourse was just too great a risk for them to rush through it. _Still…Gods…That was fantastic!_

"Mmm…." Tara moaned softly, adjusting on his chest as her legs still straddled his waist. He grinned, her every movement bringing him arousal. Honestly, he could go for another round right now, if possible; "Kheelah…"

"Felt good?" he smirked, meeting her eyes as they slowly fluttered open while his arms circled her back. Her gorgeous silver eyes met his, a deep-seated love in them that made his stomach spread with warmth.

"_Definitely_ good." She giggled, hands grabbing his shoulders as she pulled herself up his chest, allowing the soft skin of her breasts to slide across it as well. Magnus met her eagerly, pressing his own cracked lips to those oh so velvety and soft ones of hers. He could taste so many things on her tongue as she shoved it down his throat, one of them himself as she had given him release earlier. It just added to the experience, and they deepened the kiss, tongues seeking each other out while the lips moved passionately against each other.

Magnus tightened his arms around her back as one three-fingered hand, bare of its glove, grabbed him below and started toying. His breath caught in his throat as sexual desire started taking over again. Gods, what had he ever done to deserve this woman?

Tara's omnitool, discarded on the floor, started beeping. Magnus growled under his breath, the sound odd as it entered her mouth instead of open air.

Apparently, he hadn't done enough to deserve a round two.

"Great…" he growled, feeling her mouth leave his. Tara's breath was still in his nose as he savored her lingering taste; "Someone's _better_ be dying."

"It's Omega, someone's _always_ dying" Tara remarked dryly, her irritation at the interruption clear. She picked the tool up, one hand still between his legs, and pressed the audio-only; "This is Velan."

"_Captain Velan, report to Commander Haruno's office. Tell no one of this, and be there as soon as possible."_ The voice, a Turian, said, then ended before Tara had a chance to speak at all. Growling, she released Magnus' already throbbing member and sat at the end of the mattress, fishing for her bra first, a piece of squared, chest-covering fabric in same black material as her 'pants', then started gathering the suit. Magnus just enjoyed watching her as she moved, strong muscles beneath soft and smooth skin.

"So…" he started; "If anyone asks, I have no idea where you are?"

"Yes." He still had to get over just how melodious her voice was without being filtered through the helmet. One thing he could only praise the Suns for, even the old ones, was their policy of having translators embedded in their members' ears, not just placed there as an earbud.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have had a clue as to what Tara had been moaning half the time. Or when she'd been giggling. And he would probably have been worried if he hadn't known her screams had meant 'yes! Yes! Yes! More!'

_Not to mention the "YES! YES!YESYESYES!ANCESTORS!YES! YEEEEES! HARDER! RIGHT THERE! FASTER! AAAAAAAAH!" Yeah…_he thought with a cracked smirk. That translator was _definitely_ a godsend.

So, he would remember to leave a tip for whomever had come up with the idea.

Resigned to the fact that a round two would have to wait, Magnus followed Tara's example and sat out to find his pants. Then the shirt, then the socks and finally his shoes, lastly stuffing his working gloves down a pocket. When he turned, Tara had stopped moving, suit complete bar the visor, currently held in her hands.

She turned a saddened, hesitant expression at him.

"It's uh…probably going to be some time before I can reserve this place again." She muttered, fingers dancing nervously over the opaque glass. Her large silvery eyes locked with his, and the question didn't even have to be asked for him to cup her chin and press his lips to hers, this time moving _his_ tongue into _her_ mouth.

Aesir, she tasted _so_ _good_. he danced around her sharp canines, tasting her and relishing in the warmth of her breath on him, _in_ him.

"Was it worth it?" he asked instead, ending her blushing at the kiss. Considering what else they'd just done, her blushing over a _kiss_ seemed odd. Still, her expression grew a bit more confident, turning the shy girl into the confident sharpshooter he'd fallen completely in love with.

"Absolutely. You?"

"_Totally worth it_." He whispered into her mouth as their lips met one final time. Tara's spreading smile was then concealed behind her visor, and the hiss of air signaled a completed sealing.

As the decon started running its course, Magnus took the last moment he could possibly get away with doing so, and grabbed her buttocks with a deft hand. Tara's surprised squeal was muffled by her helmet lowering high-pitched sounds, but her hand still came down on his, resting together for the last seconds before the door opened.

"I love you." She said, starting her path towards the command building. Magnus grinned;

"I know." and watched her walk away. If he hadn't just seen those hips underneath the suit, he'd still suspect the size for being due to padding. Back in the days, he'd never really believed people when they'd talked about Quarians and their hips. But seeing Tara walk away now, with that swagger to her gait, he had to admit his eyes were on her hips.

Those _glorious_ hips.

* * *

As Tara passed by the pair of guards outside Jentha's office, she was reminded a bit of how they'd both come in the past few years.

Jentha had gone from a simple Legionnaire, which wasn't really simple at all, to becoming the commander of the Omega division, one of the hardest-contested units in the organization. And she'd proven to be deserving of the rank, if Tara's own opinion of her friend was allowed air: Jentha had carried out the purge without the Batarian commander even noticing until it was too late, and since then she'd expanded Blue Suns territory almost one third of what it started as under her command.

Herself, Tara had gone from that scared little pilgrim on Omega, who'd seen her fleet-brother killed before almost sharing his fate, to being rescued and initiated into the only organization working to restore order to the Rectum of the Galaxy. With Aria content with lounging in Afterlife, the Suns were the only people, before Santiago's reign and now, who gave a damn about the common citizen of the station.

Which had meant a lot of work.

Which had in turn meant that the scared little pilgrim had had to grow up and grow hard quickly if she wanted to survive. And not only had she now _survived_, she had started to _live_.

"Captain, good." Jentha's voice was professional, which meant Tara knew there were others with them, even before she fully entered the room. When she did, she saw a Turian she was familiar with, and who's presence was concerning, and a young human woman with her hair pulled into a ponytail of red and dark, artificially colored, obviously; "Do you all know each other?"

"Preitor Gavorn, I work for Aria." The Turian introduced himself. Tara knew who Gavorn was, she'd seen him often enough taking shots at feral Vorcha around the station. While he seemed just about the only decent man in Aria's organization, his presence still meant Aria had an interest in Blue Suns business. Which in itself was a bad sign.

"Neff Mat'hi, Leader of seventh squad." The woman said, offering Tara a respectful nod. Her voice was young too, and filled with passion. Currently though, most of that passion was clearly restrained _rage._

"Sergeant Mat'hi, would you please repeat for Captain Velan what you told us?" Jentha said, looking at the younger woman and the Turian, then at Tara. Neff nodded, eyes filled with energy, determination and a drive to boot;

"Two men from my unit, troopers Nilsson and Hatoke, went missing yesterday. We found them today, about four hours ago. Both were stripped of their armor and left dead in a back alley near the western perimeter…" there was hesitation enough in her speech that Gavorn cleared his throat, making her glare at the Turian; "neither had a single wound on his body, and both seemed to have passed in a state of bliss. When we took them in for forensics, just an hour ago, they were both found to have succumbed to brain hemorrhages."

"…_hemorrhages_?" Tara couldn't stop the question. That was about the strangest way she could imagine killing a person, and she'd killed enough that she ought to know. Something was _not_ right about this.

"Yes…" Jentha took over; "given the state they were found in, as well as the cause of death, we have reason to believe this to be the work of an Ardat-Yakshi."

"A…an Ardat-Yakshi?" the word was familiar, true, but beyond having heard it mentioned around, she wasn't sure what to make of it. The Turian in the room seemed to sense her confusion, and took it as his cue to step in.

"Ardat-Yakshi's are Asari who end up killing their partners each time they 'embrace eternity', they say." He did the quotations too; "Each time they kill, they grow stronger. This one's been starting out recently, so Aria wants it put down before an actual threat arises."

"_Before_? That bitch killed two of my men!" Mat'hi spat angrily, glaring daggers at the Turian. Gavorn raised his hands in defense as all previous notions of the woman respecting Aria's involvement were thrown to the wind; "I say we hunt her down and crucify her: nail her to the outer hull with a breather strapped on."

"I'm just Aria's liaison here, okay? I'm just delivering _her_ words, not mine." Gavorn offered with a tone that almost held indignation; "As many as ten armed Suns mercs are allowed into Aria's inner territories for the hunt. If you _do_ find the bitch though…" he shrugged casually; "…you can remove the gloves, I think. Is that the human term?"

"Close enough. Tell Aria that we understand the terms and will comply to the best of our ability" Jentha spoke, her tone making it clear that if Gavorn had nothing more to add, the door was behind him on his left. Gavorn nodded to them all, turned and left the room. Jentha looked between the two women remaining before her; "Sergeant Mat'hi, you may bring your men my condolences. I promise we will hunt down the creature responsible for this."

"Yes, commander." Neff replied, giving a nod before leaving the room as well. Alone at last, Jentha's expression turned familiar, weary, and Tara sensed she could expect her commander to offer her mind now. That was often how it went;

"Merciful Allah… this is _just_ what I needed." Jentha rested her face in both hands as she groaned; "First the Eclipse join forces with bug-slavers, then the Blood Pack decides to launch a Red Army-style campaign on us, and now some Asari sow is running around with murder on her mind."

"Is it really that bad?" Tara asked, pulling up a chair. Jentha shot her a withering stare;

"Do you want my job?"

"Not in a million years." Tara replied with a snort, to which the older woman simply let her face fall between her fingers again;

"Then it's _that_ bad." She muttered, and pulled her head from her hands; "I hate my job sometimes. I swear, at least back when everyone used _paper_, I could have burned my work and danced around it. Now…now I gotta **deal** with this shit."

Her eyes were hard and irritated, a result of years of exposure to Omega, both literally and philosophically speaking; "The reason I called you up here is because your team distinguished itself when you took down Santiago. We are going to kill this bitch, and I want your team being the people who pull the trigger. Officially, Nilsson and Hatoke died in a mugging when unarmored."

"Why keep the truth secret?" Tara asked, leaning forward over the desk

"There are almost fifteen-hundred members of the Suns here in the compound. If we made it public knowledge that an Ardat-Yakshi is on the hunt for us, and we after _her_, the amount of people insisting on bringing her down themselves would be enough that the bitch would flee the station." Haruno's eyes narrowed slightly at her, which made Tara withdraw her arms from the desk; "From this point on, your team's sole objective will be to find this Ardat-Yakshi, wherever she might be on this station, even if it's between T'loak's legs. Find her, and make her a stain on the floor."

"Rules of engagement?"

"A _stain_, I said. If she's screwing T'loak, you storm the place. If she's screwing the Blood Pack, you storm the place. If she's trying to escape in a civilian vessel, you either _storm the place_, or if it has already taken off: shoot it down."

"That's a bit brutal, don't you think?" Tara asked innocently, a feral grin starting behind her visor; "I mean, what if she's draining the Bitch-Queen, and we _accidentally_ hit her too?"

"Use a grenade-launcher or a shotgun, I don't care." Jentha's eyes shot up to meet Tara's own; "Collateral damage's a bitch, but with weapons like that, you really couldn't be blamed."

"I see…" the Quarian merc nodded, silent for a long moment as the gears in her mind spun. Most of her blood was still somewhat allocated to between her legs, for which she blamed Magnus – even if it was, as he'd said _'totally_ worth it' - but she could already start planning out how to do this. It wouldn't be her first manhunt, even; "Myself excluded, my team consists of eight people. Gavorn said ten was allowed for: are you going to send another team in?"

"Not at the moment, no." Jentha shook her head, red-purple strands going _everywhere_ regardless of both hair-gel and the fact that the commander wasn't shaking her head _that_ fast; "I'll keep the last two in reserve with HAS-suits, in case you meet _too_ heavy resistance. Questions?"

"When do I start?"

"When Gavorn left the room." Jentha deadpanned; "The armory's at your disposal, in case you were wondering. Plus the P-steel hardsuits just came in yesterday: your boys' got a chance to field-test them."

Tara's lips, already smiling, spread enough that her canines would be visible without the visor; "Nice."

* * *

Galactic Republic

Coruscant, Republic space.

Jedi Temple, Council room.

Around lunch.

Kasumi shifted on her feet, looking between the gathered _Jedi's_. Since the last time she'd been in this room, she'd lost a great deal of respect for some of them, mainly the guy trying to look like old-times actor S. Jackson. Because the resemblance was just _creepy_.

Windu, or 'Window' as she'd taken to calling him –it could be excused as a mispronunciation, and felt like sweet payback – was looking at her over folded hands, Yoda the Leprechaun to his right, while Obi-Wan was to his left, followed then by pointy-headed Santa, the pleasantly regretful and masked Martian-face, Luna-something Unduli and Shark-_tee_? Damn, she hated Anna for having booted her out the door without any coffee.

And she hadn't had a chance to see Keiji pants-less for almost a _month_. Apparently the old terminator didn't realize it, but a girl had _needs_!

"You requested a meeting, Ambassador." Window, and she was totally sticking to that one, started, seeing as _she_ wasn't really sure how to; "You have the Council's ears."

"I sort of kind of need your _eyes_ just as much, but…_Baka_…" she still sort of wanted to toss stink-bombs at the audience after the shit they'd pulled on Ahsoka. Still, she activated her Omnitool and opened up the schematics for all to see; "Quick question: Does _any_ of you guys know what this is?"

There was a long silence as the assembled Jedi, some merely there in holographic form, studied the image with intense expressions. One after one, the leaned back and shook their heads. Well, all but _one_.

"An interesting contraption this is, hmm?" Yoda both stated and asked; "In this council, none has seen it before." Which meant Kasumi had to repress a sigh, because this meant she was going to have to give the whole speech really better left to someone _educated_ in science;

"It's a Quantum-Entanglement Communications device." She said, hoping to Kami that it'd spur some memories or something. Seeing only confusion and curiosity, she cursed inwardly and continued; "It's basically an infinite communicator, I think, because entangled atoms or something don't care how _far_ they are from each other, which means anything changed with _one_ of them, instantly happens with the _other_ of them, just reversed. We call them QEC's, for short, and before you ask: no, they are _not_ commonly found like my Omnitool, and _yes_, that means they are freakishly _expensive_."

Taking a breath, allthewhile thanking Hudson, - wasn't that his name? – for the upgrade, she withdrew the large canister from the even larger suitcase before her on the ground. Real metal and everything, damn thing. The suitcase, not the canister. Which was also metal, but…Baka.

"This is the expensive part: the second half of the entangled atoms. You're expected to construct the rest yourselves, but this part _can't_ be made separately from the one in Fisher's office." She dumped the canister in the Jackson-wannabe's lap; "The sooner you guys construct this, the sooner I can go back to my old job."

"Stealing?" Obi-Wan mused with a suppressed grin in his voice. Kasumi gave him a mock-offended stare;

"I prefer the term 'saving my galaxy by jumping the weapons-race up a few hundred years' thank you very much." She said, grinning at the frown on his face.

"If this is truly such a technological marvel as you say," Window asked slowly; "why give it to us, and not the Senate? The Jedi have no political influence in the Republic."

"Already did." She said, giving him a smirk that said 'I'm so way ahead of you, Baldie'; "The Chancellor was a lot more appreciative than you guys, actually."

"…I see." And didn't _he_ look offended now? "Thank you for sharing this with the Council, Ambassador Goto." Which was her cue to leave. Offering the Council as a whole a short bow, Kasumi turned and left the room.

While she was surprised at seeing Anakin, and she'd sort of come to sympathize a lot more with the guy since _he_ _too_ was bathed in poop by the Council, plus the stuff Ahsoka had told her about him, she figured it really wasn't that surprising after all. He _did_ live here.

"Ambassador." He greeted.

"Skywalker." She replied, not stopping her walk. If he wanted to talk, he could keep up until she rejoined Fox and the others. She'd promised to get them the recipe for hot chocolate, since apparently the very_ concept_ was alien to them.

"I was hoping to speak with you, if you have the time." He said, and really, his anxiety was almost adorable. Also, because she knew what he wanted to talk _about_.

"Ahsoka is fine. She's reemployed and greatly appreciated by her new team." She beat him to his question; "And yes, she does miss you quite a bit. Gave me a bit of insight, as a matter of fact."

"Insight?" he seemed puzzled.

"Your anger-issues." She pointed vaguely at her neck, which actually made him darken with a mixture of regret and shame; "You've been through a _lot_ of shit over the years, recent ones especially. I know a guy, sort of, who lost his hand too, just to a plant-clone, not a Sith." She nodded to a spikey-headed boy walking by, remembering having seen him at the memorial for the people killed in the attack.

"I can't blame the past for what I did to you."

"True, but you could start out by saying sorry, you know?" she mused, as if it was a simple, idle thought. Still, she didn't miss the way Anakin's steps faltered, as if he really wasn't aware that he hadn't done so yet; "It's usually how you do that sort of thing."

"I am sorry, for how I treated you on the Resolute, Ambassador." He said, his tone surprisingly sincere; "I misjudged your character, and acted out of line regardless of the truth."

"Hey, it's okay, all water under the bridge." She patted his shoulder like a child's, despite the difference in height playing _against_ her; "Remember, Ahsoka tried cutting me up, and Rex actually _shot_ me, and I've forgiven them both."

"I'm not sure I'd have been able to do the same." He replied after a while, just as they reached the entrance; "You said Ahsoka is doing well…I was afraid that leaving the Order would end up destroying her: it's all she knows…_knew_, but…_What_ is she doing?"

"She's the newest member of a taskforce assembled to combat the Reapers…" she wasn't really _allowed_ to say anything more about them, but she'd discovered that Ahsoka knew Boss was a Delta, so; "By the way, and totally off topic, do you know a guy by the name of Boss? Part of a _Delta_ team of Commando's?"

"…Delta?" Anakin's brows furrowed in thought; "I've only seen them once, I think, but the names…I don't know. Usually clones only share names with each other and commanding officers. I don't even know _where_ they are now, probably in the Outer Rim somewhere."

"…Ah, no? Boss's part of the taskforce too. I'm just asking because Ahsoka recognized him when she was introduced." Anakin wasn't really buying it, it seemed, but before she could continue, Slammer started hollering at her from the foot of the stairs;

"Hey Kasumi! You ready for a night ou- _Shabuir_\- Ah, General, I…We…" the trooper started stuttering and quickly lived up to his name by slamming his helmet onto his head, then stepped behind Fox as if his squad-leader would protect him. Fox, without his helmet, shared an exasperated look with Kasumi before saluting the Jedi.

"Trooper?" Anakin seemed as perplexed as he was curious.

"Ah, Sir, we just discussed what recreational activities the team, the Ambassador included, would depart for at the end of the day." He explained; "It was the Ambassador's idea that we be shown how 'soldiers take shore-leave in the Alliance'"

"Hey, don't blame me for you people not knowing what cocoa is." She retorted, then gave Anakin a bright smile; "I'm having a one-day stay here this time, so the guys and I are just going for some fun on the town. I'll tell Ahsoka you said hi, okay?"

Anakin seemingly hadn't finished processing the entire scene by the time she'd fled in the waiting sky-car, leaving the puzzled Jedi standing on the stairs like a child staring after birds.

* * *

Arcturus station, Arcturus Stream

Hangar D-5, Military Section

14:22

In the bustle and hustle of the hangar, which was _huge,_ hardly anyone paid attention to Anna seeing Sparatus off for his flight back to the Citadel.

Anna Fisher, despite being one of the most infamous figures in galactic politics, was remarkably good at _not_ being seen. Namely, she accomplished this simply by being in a marine's uniform, _not_ her usual armored-uniform. Which felt a bit weird, but then again, Sparatus was still just wearing his Pajamas, so she could make sacrifices too.

"What's going to happen now?" she pondered, looking at the contemplative Turian. He wore his nightclothes with remarkable dignity: Anna doubted she'd be able to wear her PJ's with such style. Then again, Turians were military in all aspects. Sparatus even had camouflage on his shirt and pants, and she wasn't even shitting.

"I return to the Council, try to figure out why no word has been released of my abduction, and resume keeping Tevos from antagonizing the Quarians, and Esheel from demanding whatever she constantly demands…" Sparatus shook his head slowly, focusing dark, green eyes on her ;"I swear, sometimes I think my colleagues are going mad."

"As mad as me?" she gave him a grin. Surprisingly, his mandibles spread in a sign of slight amusement;

"Well, they have yet to scientifically engineer weaponized chi, not to mention stuff a Keter-spirit into a mechanical form." He noted, something akin to respect, different from the usual kind, in his tone. She liked that; "I think I prefer meeting Roku in that form. Hearing his voice from a human…It was not pleasant."

"Yeah, I'm still trying to sort out the rules for the whole thing." She admitted with a roll of her shoulders; "First he told me I _couldn't_ replicate the firepower he'd equipped Thomas with, and now that I _can_, the bugger wants to argue the ethics of jamming a module into people's necks."

"I do not see the difference from a biotic amplifier, at least not in the positioning." The Turian was still very much interested in how he was going to 'pass this here _thingy_ to Fedorian' as the Admiral had put it when she gave him a working prototype. It was on the condition that he wouldn't share it with his colleagues, so he knew she was taking him seriously.

At least, she hoped he knew. It'd be a _bitch_ if Tevos got her superior-ish hands on it, or, Aspects forbid, Esheel did.

"It's because we're gripping into the Chi-network here, not the neural one." She huffed, throwing her hands up like that'd mean an end to her problems; "Apparently Roku thinks people will start spontaneously self-combusting if we do it."

"I assume you would like me to _not_ inform Tevos or Esheel of this development?" he was right on that one.

"Yeah, that'd be real nice." She nodded, then thought of something she _really_ should have pondered earlier; "The Council got the schematics for the Super-Dreadnoughts too, back then, didn't you?"

"Yes, however until your flagship entered the stage, Tevos shelved the plan as being unfeasible, especially with regards to the cost in Element Zero." Sparatus didn't sound at all like he regretted that, and Anna guessed the underlying reason even before he continued; "the Hierarchy Navy though, jumped at the chance."

"Wait, so while Tevos didn't care for a bigger ship, Fedorian pounced straight at it? Does that mean Palavan's got its own Goliaths roaring across its orbit right now?" Curiously enough, while Anna would have detested the idea just a year ago, now she felt giddy at the prospect. Also, it might be because of the Reapers.

"Slightly different design, and a bit larger, but yes. Also, we do not call them the 'Goliath', seeing how that's a thing from human mythology." He gave her what _definitely_ looked like a grin; "The Hierarchy dubbed the new class 'Phoenix'."

"Wait…Phoenix is bloody human mythology too, Prick." Anna pouted, glaring at the Turian who tried tricking her. Well, he wasn't going to succeed; "I know your entire species revolves around trying to be Space-Romans, but _come on_!"

"…space... Romans...?"

"Never mind." She shook it off; "Get your metallic butt on that ship and get back to the Citadel. I'll let you know if anything comes up here about why the hell Eclipse abducted you to Alliance space."

"Much appreciated." Sparatus nodded, then turned to look at the waiting shuttle. It was a regular Kodiak, waiting to ferry the Councilor to an orbiting Javelin-class Destroyer. Along with a squadron of frigates, it would secure his transport back to Council Space; "Well, I look forward to hearing from you, Admiral."

When he had vanished into the shuttle and taken off, Anna remained standing where she was, looking at the ion-trails of the diminishing vessel. A slight grin spread across her face at the Turian's last words.

"Heh…and doesn't that just feel weird to say, I bet?"

Later, as she was preparing for lunch, the chime of Price's incoming transmission lit up her Omnitool. With an off-handed gesture she transmitted the call to her ear-piece, face settling in a frown as she contemplated how best to consummate her imminent marriage with the spiced meat-roll on her plate.

"Talk to me."

_Fuck it_, hands it was.

"I've got a good piece of news, and a maybe bad, which potentially means catastrophically bad. I don't know. What'd you wanna hear first?"

"Give me the good news first, I'm eating and don't wanna lose appetite." She bit down hard, savoring sweet meat-juices and the spices flavoring the whole thing.

"Tests have proceeded with positive, if unexpected results. Using the templates, we've been able to make the module activate both fire- and rock-type Chi-systems in the subjects."

"And, the 'unexpected' part?" Why did she have a feeling his next words would mean a ton of more work?

"We have no immediate way of controlling which subjects developed what abilities. Cole is starting to grow pissed with her subordinates at this point." As if he could see her expression - which he probably could, he _was_ in all Arcturus' systems – Price continued; "the module seems to interact differently with each subject, like it's reacting to something we haven't considered."

"Good enough, for now. Let Cole know her team can take a day off, then get Roku to give some advice. Heaven knows he's gotta make himself useful _somehow_."

"Understood."

"Bad news?" she grimaced, swallowing the last of the roll before he could speak.

"We've lost contact with Zhu's Hope. The colony's completely dropped off the grid, no word at all."

"Zhu's hope?" Anna quirked a brow; "Isn't that where that Thorian-thingy was causing a mess?"

"Exo-Geni was behind a series of unethical experiments on site, revolving around spore-controlled colonists, yes." Price sounded like he was explaining this to a dumb child. Bugger. Just because he had a brain he size of the Extranet; "Colonists returned when the Alliance started funding a larger mining-operation on the surface. Approximately sixty-thousand people live there."

"Since you're telling me, does that mean you don't think they just crossed the wrong wires by accident?"

"You told me to be on the alert for black-out colonies." He huffed; "There's been no word from the system at all, and my attempts at contacting them are met with static."

"Right…" she rubbed her eyes. For the ever-loving fuck, why'd people messing up their comms always end up on _her_ desk? "Dispatch a battlegroup from the Relay closest to the planet, then keep me appraised. In the meantime, how's work going on the Paladin-suit?"

"It's more or less done, actually." The tone changed a bit, which was likely Price splitting himself to deliver commands to some unlucky sod of a commander that he'd have to haul ass to the middle of no-where by yesterday; "The biggest hurdle is its power-consumption. Even with efficient fuel-cells and power-packs, the armor's engines require enough power that it'll need either a small nuclear-plant integrated, which'll take time, or a mobile power-generator. Otherwise, it can run for three days, then it just shuts down. Not exactly idea for a long-term mission."

"…Well, people had bigger shits on their plates when they _started_ developing power-armor." She downed the cup of coffee next to her; "I'm heading back to the office, let me know if the test-teams come up with something."

"Right…Roger that, ma'am." He drawled, a tone of amusement as well as irritation in his voice; "Also, I figured you'd like to know if the Eclipse had more noticeable activity in Alliance space?"

Great, there really _never_ was a moments rest. The universe seemed content at lobbing work a her like a twelve-year old spamming armed transports for raids in Galaxy of Fantasy. She'd sent in more than _one_ Ops-team to kick in adolescents' doors in her time. _No rest for the wicked, eh?_

"Not really, but it's part of the job, I guess…" she grumbled, resigned to more work; "Fine, what've you got?"

"Not _much_, really, but I figured you'd like for your taskforce to get some team-building done? A small band of pirates just raided a mining complex in the Artemis Tau cluster." Well, wasn't _that_ just narrowed down?; "Spy-Sat's trailed them to a base on Sharjila."

"Sharjila…Sharjila…" Anna frowned, trying to call up her mental map of the galaxy: despite how important one'd think such a thing was, _no one_ had ever made a standard map of the galactic civilizations and where their respective borders were. Honestly, she'd been forced to have the damnably snide AI make up a map that only _just_ met the requirements one would think a galactic society _this_ advanced would have long-since met. _Once more, it's the ballpoint-pen deal going on. Nobody bothers with advancements because everyone's convinced the Protheans shat Eezo and can't be one-upped_; "That's not their usual area, is it?"

"Who cares?" there was a definite shrug in his voice; "I've also been taking some trips around the extranet, just for shit and giggles, I believe the saying is."

"Fascinating. You're so advanced that you know how to _waste_ time." Anna drawled right back, repressing something between a sigh and a laugh.

"Please," and he said it like she was so undeniably _wrong_ that it'd be like saying the Earth was the center of all creation; "An Asari Diplomat, one Nassana Dantius, believes the pirates hold her sister hostage."

"Which I should give a shit about…why again?" The Asari hadn't developed _anything_ of value since the biotic amp, and had been resting on their collective laurels for the past two millennia. For all Anna cared, their species had _nothing_ of worth aside from that not-so-secret beacon on Thessia. She'd tried getting spies in for years, but the damn temple seemed to be the only place where the tentacle-heads actually cared about security. Figures.

"Miss Dantius is not only one of the most prominent Asari Diplomats in Council Space, she is also _extremely_ wealthy, holds the majority of the shares in Armax Arsenal and has already paid for the release of her sister, which failed, so now she's seeking help. From _any_ angle offering it."

That…was worth a raised brow. Not that she cared about Asari diplomacy in the slightest, but Armax Arsenal had recently developed, according to her sources, a biotic amplifier that'd let a maiden _level_ a matriarch in open battle. Which, in case anyone around her could hear her thoughts and failed to see the relevance, was _big_. And also something she'd tried getting her hands on via industrial espionage.

"…Okay, I'll see if I can't arrange an excursion for the team. How many pirates do you think there'll be?" when Price just offered a verbal 'I dunno' shrug, she sighed and prepared to end the conversation; "Anything else?"

"Who the hell died and allowed you to name the taskforce?" Price asked, amused as well as irritated. Odd combination, but then again, Price was an _odd_ man; "'Aspect of Fire' sounds like something a ten-year old would've come u-"

She replied by ending the transmission, a scowl on her face. _Damn AI. My name's super awesome, just because _he_ didn't pick it, he thinks it's bad. Baka."_

The scowl became a bemused frown when she realized she'd picked up on Kasumi's rare swear-words.

* * *

March 27th

Macedon, Artemis Tau cluster

Sharjila, pirate base.

If Sharjila had possessed an atmosphere "loose" enough to carry sound more than a yard from its origin, the skies, or lack thereof seeing how Sharjila was a Mars-class planet, would have resounded with the telltale noise of battle. Gunfire, screaming and yelling was among the main sources here.

A scream was cut off as a rock, roughly the size of a volley-ball, smashed through the yellow ceramic armor of the unfortunate merc.

While throwing stones would usually be considered out of date with a regular battlefield, few really bothered mentioning that to the thrower. Tequila, clad in the new Bulwark-suit that had come with the rank, was grinning like a psychopath – according to her enemies – while she punched fist- and ball-sized rocks from her raised cliffside. Her own personal stonewall acted both as defense and offense, absorbing slugs while providing her with ammunition of her own to send towards the bad guys.

While Sharjila was definitely, so far, an okay mission in her book, it was definitely a strange one too. Far as Shepard explained it, the Admiral wanted them to rescue an Asari hostage held somewhere inside the base, while also killing every merc they could find. Seeing as it allowed her training with her bending, she didn't really care much for the purpose of clearing out the mercs, as long as they got what was no-doubt coming to them.

A wet _squash_ marked the end of the short-lived firefight between the taskforce and the defending mercs around the base. Tequila stood back, admiring the way one of the mercs was had been halved by her opening a waist-high hole beneath him, then slammed its walls together to press everything under the poor bastard's belt to a mush.

"Damn, you really did a number on him." Nikolai whistled from aside her as he lowered the machinegun to point at the ground. Tequila just cleared her visor and offered him a cocky smirk, making the heavier soldier chuckle in response.

The two of them had entered something of an understanding, since the party. She knew he was attracted to her, and she was _definitely_ not unattracted to him, having seen just _what _he'd hidden beneath that shirt. Not a gram of fat on that chest of his, and Mary, did he know how to work that tongue. Between them, they'd agreed that while neither was really…_ready_ for a full-on relationship, they were both more than eager to repeat that night's success.

She believed there was a term for that sort of relationship, but wasn't sure what it was.

"Okay people, breach and clear. Rock, you're up." Shepard called, already at the door. Instead of giving the waiting mercs inside the pleasure of a choke-point, she pointed at Tequila, then at the door. Nodding, she knew what to do.

Offering just a curt knock on the door, as if she _wasn't_ about to rip it from its hinges, the Hispanic soldier then plunged both hands, flat and finger-tips first into the metal, grabbed a hold and then ripped it open. No fire came, as she opened into a small air-lock chamber and she threw the mangled door into the room, not wanting to hit her team-mates.

"Demon, take the door. Ghost, Viking, Monk and Wolf, you're with Demon, rest of you on me and Rock for secondary entrance." Van Zandt would probably have approved of Tequila's new superior, if only because the woman knew how to stay stone-cold on missions. Professionalism to this degree usually meant the officer in question was a social drop-out, but Shepard managed both just fine.

She watched as Thomas stepped up, weapons holstered as he stopped by the door. Lowering his shoulders as a sign of a deep breath, he flashed green with flames starting to lick around his form. The second breath had him fully enveloped in fire, and the ground beneath his soles seemed to sizzle from the heat.

Then he simply walked forward. Through the door. The hole left was an exact outline of his form, down to the point where she could tell his fingers apart in the molten metal. Not even bothering to wait for the screams and gunfire to start, Tequila followed Shepard for the far wall.

Ahsoka Tano was right after Thomas, following in a distance that wouldn't give her the worst bout of a sunburn in history. Observing Thomas as he punched a hole through a man's head, setting the brain on fire in the process, she was, somewhat painfully, reminded of how Anakin would sometimes lose himself in his anger. Both men would be some of the most friendly people while relaxed, but when anger took over, they became…scary.

Absorbing a spray of slugs with her lightsabers, she cursed to herself as her style carried on sending the ammunition right back at sender. Slugs though, didn't repel or bounce off her sabers. Instead the plasma just turned them into molten slag, which then again impended her speed when she had to avoid touching them.

_Force_, fighting slug-throwers was annoying!

Using the Force, she vaulted over the heads of several yellow-themed gunmen, then leapt among them from behind, sabers becoming glowing arcs as she carved a path through the mercs. While she'd more or less grown up ready to fight droids, fighting organics was…_ different_.

For one, droids didn't scream in anguish when she cut them apart by the waist.

John-117, also known to the world as 'Wolf' and Master Chief, felt like something he had missed was sliding back into place.

It wasn't as much the fighting humans he had missed, far from it. From a personal and unprofessional viewpoint, John _hated_ fighting humans. Spartans were created and trained to be the best Humanity had to offer in the face of an alien threat, so each human he gunned down, even the Insurrectionists back home, felt like he was betraying a part of his humanity.

It was the same here. Every time he broke a shield and punched slugs through a human's armor, he felt that same sting of betrayal. Cortana was the only one who knew, the only one he'd ever shared his remorse with.

While he had at first been unaccustomed to the weapons given to him by the Admiral, handheld railguns all of them, they had still not been as alien as the hardlight weapons he'd often been forced to use against both remnant Covenant forces, as well as the Prometheans the Didact had sent at him in waves. He'd stopped counting himself when the toll had exceeded fifty. The consolation had been that he hadn't been killing humans.

Not 'intact' humans, anyway.

Now though, he simply did what he could to focus on the alien members of the opposing forces. His armor, which was also why the Admiral wanted to reverse engineer it, was easily able to stand against the volleys of slugs that managed to hit him between his changing cover, and returning fire. Each shield he'd calculated to being able to take a five-second spray from his rifle, then another two-second spray would allow him to drop the opponent.

The carbine in his hands was easily capable of just that.

"Clear!" Fisher shouted, allowing his flickering fires to die out, leaving him just as intact and unharmed as previous to the fight.

John took a moment to observe the officer, wanting to understand all that he could about his…less than natural team-mates. The young man was, at first glance, a hardened veteran with the bionic eye, scared face and replacement-arm where his own had been blown off, according to Shepard when asked.

But beneath it, behind the mask of a fierce and unfeeling warrior, John recognized the traits of a man who had been in active duty for less than a year. Fisher still showed signs of panic when he himself would just be wary, and often acted outside of orders, questioned clear parameters and just generally revealing a civilian mindset still nestled behind his steely eyes.

John was, however, still somewhat at a loss as to the reason for the young man's obvious and clear disliking to him. Unless he was very much mistaken, he had done nothing to deserve it.

When asked, Cortana for once had no idea either.

"Ah…Captain?" Tequila, one of the team's two Service Chiefs and Chi-warriors called; "Are you sure you got the right picture?"

"Of what?"

"The hostage?" the Hispanic replied when the Captain was making her way over. The Service Chief was standing by the perforated body of the merc leader, one of the blue-skinned, female aliens called Asari; "Because unless she's got an identical twin…"

"Well fuck me…" Shepard muttered. John started for the scene as well, curious as to what caused the captain to swear; "The Intel must have been faulty…Shit!"

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking at the dead Asari. He knew even before the captain replied. The dead mercenary had the face of the woman supposedly a hostage of the Eclipse. It took him a moment to figure out a few different possibilities, though one remained the most plausible; "Our hostage was their leader."

"Yeah, that's weird." Pennyloafer agreed, nudging the corpse with her boot; "So, what? The Admiral wanted us to save a merc-leader? The fuck for?"

"Unknown." Shepard replied; "But we'll know as soon as we return to Arcturus. We'll bring the body as well."

"Why can we never have a _simple_ mission?" Tengberg, their heavy gunner grumbled. John had already formed an opinion on the soldier, much akin to the one he had on Fisher. Both men were steadfast in combat, but unprofessional too often for them to be regular soldiers, and both had the same civilian mindset.

It was something he actually, sincerely, envied them both.


	33. Just another day at the Office

**Okay, we're back for another chapter. As some of you might have guessed, especially from the description on this story, that this is a story meant to span the gap between ME1 and ME2. Yeah, I know, I once said I wouldn't follow Canon that much, but hey, Bioware _did_ do some pretty cool stuff in ME2, so it's worth following up on. It's just ME3 where there's some serious need for renovation.**

**This is a pure-Anna chapter, and consists SOLELY of talk and non-action action. It's basically a day in Parliament with the redheaded psycho. Sounds like fun? Then enjoy :) **

* * *

**Just another day at the office**

* * *

March 29th

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Alliance Parliament, Governmental Section

17:40

Arcturus Station, such as it was, bore a form rather unique to the galaxy at large. This was mainly due to the discovery of Element Zero's potentials in anti-gravity construction as the station was built.

The center of Arcturus held the central power plant, a fusion reactor powerful enough to supply the state of New York with clean energy twenty-four seven. Around the power plant were mostly different civilian and governmental sections, if somewhat diminished in size compared to the rest of the station. The center was roughly five hundred meters in diameter, and possessed armor sufficient to give even an Everest-class dreadnought some trouble.

Stretching from the center, four massive arms reached out to the outer ring, or simply the Ring, as Arcturus only had the one. Each arm held military, industrial, governmental and civilian sections, making each arm capable of running the station should the others collapse. The civilian sections were as a rule located in the core of the arms and ring, while industrial and military sections required hangars and access to docking stations, hence they were located along the outer parts of each arm.

The Ring was mainly civilian and industrial, while each intersection with an arm held a military compartment for the station's permanent marine detail. The outer hull of the station at large had been constructed initially before the activation of the 314-Relay, but had been hastily upgraded when the Turian Hierarchy demonstrated the destructive abilities of a Turian Dreadnought. Meter-thick tungsten plating, powerful kinetic barriers and countless anti-ship gun-emplacements kept the station safe, and maintained the image of Humanity's unbreakable main gates.

The Alliance Parliament was located in one of the arms, and was deliberately unmarked on the station's outer hull. As the station always spun at a lazy 1C/24hr, targeting Parliament without prior knowledge of its exact location was meant to prove a waste of time for any invading force. The station was the capital of the Systems Alliance, and the Parliament was its beating heart.

Admiral Anna Fisher just wished the damn heart would beat a bit faster.

She'd gotten the transmission, and later the personal debriefing of what had transpired on Sharjila from Captain Shepard, and said debriefing hadn't exactly improved upon her mood. Seemingly, Nassana Dantius, the Asari who had been seeking aid for the rescue of her sister, had played some sort of trick on the old lady. What was supposed to have been a rescue mission quickly turned out to be the elimination of Nassana's sister, who turned out to be the _leader_ of the pirate band.

Now, while waiting for the next session of Parliament to commence_ – which was supposed to have started yesterday –_ Anna was seated in her personal fold-out chair, looking at the projection of a seemingly confused Asari.

"W-what do you mean 'she's dead'?" Nassana demanded, her voice filled with a surprising amount of dread; "I thou- thought you said the mission was…"

"A success?" Anna helped her along with an annoyed frown on her face; "Dantius, when you asked my soldiers for help, you neglected to mention that the 'hostage' we were supposed to rescue was actually the leader of the pirates. So forgive me for being slightly-"

"What?" While Dantius' voice was quiet and, apparently, horrified, Anna still didn't like the way she interrupted her; "Dal- she wasn't- _what_?"

"Are you honestly trying to tell me that you didn't know your own sister was blackmailing you?" Anna cracked a humorless laugh; "Dear God, woman, I'm playing around with improbable shit, and I'm still calling you on yours. My men engaged the pirates on Sharjila, killed every last one of them, and guess who they recognized wearing their leader's armor?"

Dantius didn't reply. Instead, she wavered slightly on her feet, as if she was about to faint, holding a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide with disbelief and confusion, clear even through the civilian-grade comm-station Anna was using.

How amusing, the Asari was really doing a great job at her acting…unless it was genuine? Shit, that'd just be the most messed up thing ever, wouldn't it?

"…You're lying." The accusation came out soft, desperate and harsh at the same time; "_Please_, you've _got_ to be lying! Where is my sister?!"

"…Wait…" Because honestly, something here wasn't adding up. There was no way Dantius would think she could hire someone to take out her sister, and then sell some elaborate sob-story. It just didn't make sense; "Are you serious?"

"…You have her. You do, don't you? You have her and you want to blackmail me or- or _something_, or you'll kill her?" Nassana's eyes narrowed in desperation. Rage and anger too, but mostly desperation; "I know how you work, Fisher. I know you don't have the slightest hint of _moral_ or ethics. I know what you want too. Oh yes, I _know_ you what you want."

"Horrifying as that might be, I don't have your sister, Nassana." Anna replied dryly. It was annoying, because Dantius' story was becoming more and more probable. Especially with the desperation shining through her eyes; "Are you honestly telling me, under recording, that you were _not_ aware of your sister's actual position as a merc leader?"

"No! Dalia is _not_ a criminal!" Nassana yelled, causing some heads near Anna to turn. The Admiral shot them all a collective, withering glare. Said audience quickly noticed that there might be better seats on the other end of the station. When Anna turned her attention back at Dantius, the Asari was on the verge of tears; "She couldn't be- Please!"

Oh shit…So, apparently Nassana was being honest with her. Anna liked to think she could read people, regardless of race or species, and right now, she couldn't find even a hint of deceit in Dantius' voice. God, someone was going to get an asskicking for fucking up in logistics. If Nassana's sister's position had been a secret to her, Anna's own spies should damn well have been able to figure it out _before_ she sent a rescue-team.

"Okay…Miss Dantius, I am afraid there has been a misunderstanding here." Anna started, causing the Asari to suppress her outbursts and glare at the human before her. A demand for answers was always easy to recognize, even amongst aliens; "When my team discovered your sister to be the leader, not the hostage, I assumed you had been playing a trick on me. You _are_ known to employ a greater deal of subterfuge than your average diplomat. I'm starting to believe though, that you honestly didn't realize the situation in its complexity. For what it is worth, I am sorry for your loss."

Dantius terminated the call instead of replying, leaving Anna to puff out a breath.

"God…dammit…" this wasn't exactly going the way she wanted it to. Manly because she'd been wanting to press Dantius into a partnership with Alliance State Arms, utilize the diplomat's shares in Armax Arsenal to secure better amplifier for the Biotic program in Grissom Academy, then for the entirety of the Alliance's biotics.

Apparently Anna actually had a conscience, because she wasn't much for even trying out that avenue now.

"Admiral, the Parliament is ready for us."

"Huh?" Anna snapped around to look at the speaker. Doctor Cole was standing at attention, hands behind her back as she observed the Admiral. In the years Cole had worked for Anna, the old woman had gained an immense appreciation for the scientist. Cole had been employed by Alliance R&amp;D when Anna had first met her, a pure chance of luck meeting as it was. Seeing Cole's skills wasted with developing enhanced crops for the Federation of China, Anna had hired the – back then – young woman. And neither party had ever regretted it; "Right, right…took them long enough."

"It's Parliament, Admiral. They have to be inefficient, or people would start asking questions." There was the ghost of a smile on Cole's face, something Anna could appreciate. When she'd met Cole the first time, the raven-haired woman would never have made joke about Alliance leadership. _I guess she learned something over the years…_

"Do you have all the files prepared?" Anna decided to break tradition by being the serious one. Had to be her, someone else might have gotten it…what was it, _unserious_? Still, this was a big deal, especially since _she_ was the one who was going to smack it on the table.

"Everything is ready, ma'am. I've prepared and sent copies to all members of the Defense Committee, the TRD and the DAAW." Cole counted off. Anna liked the last one, always had. People reading the name for the first time would always mispronounce it, often deliberately at that; "They're just waiting for you."

"Us, you mean." Anna forced herself out of the chair. Her back was protesting in the form of several mildly painful pops from her spine, and she grinned through the pain. She'd long made it a rule to smile at pain, and she'd kept to that rule. Always had; "Don't sell yourself short, Doctor. None of this would be possible without the efforts of your team."

"Ri-i-ight…" Cole glanced at the Admiral as she adjusted her uniform; "That's not what the news will have you believe."

"The news would also have you believe the Reapers are just machines, Cole." Anna shot the younger woman an examining stare, as they walked for the double-doors; "Never trust the news. They'll give you what they think will sell them viewers, not the truth. The truth is just a bonus."

"I'll keep that in mind." Was all Cole offered in return; "Well, after you, ma'am."

"Yeah…yay me for stepping into the den of vipers first." Anna grumbled, took a deep breath and pushed open the large doors.

* * *

Inside, the Parliament was filled to the bursting-point with journalists, civilian audience, law-students… and of course the actually permitted members of Parliament. That was how _all_ public sessions were these days, at least the ones Anna partook in. Otherwise few people outside the sitting members gave a damn what went on in here. _I'm eye-candy for billions…And ain't that a disturbing thought?_

The last time this many eyes had been on _her_, was when she'd castrated pirates on live television.

"The Systems Alliance Parliament will now hear Admiral Anna Cologne Vestergaard Fisher and Senior Chief Scientist of Arcturus Research and Development, Doctor Brynn Cole." Amul Shastri declared through the atrium's expensive speakers.

Anna gave a short, polite nod to the unending pacifist in charge, and walked with Cole casually to the speaker's podium. On her way there, she noted the presence of several familiar faces, including Oleg, Tibus Heth, Mikhailovich, Daro'Xen, Han'Gerrel and Sullivan Kahoku. Lots of others too, but those were the ones sitting closest to her route, and such she returned each greeting with same.

Oddly enough, Uncle Stephen wasn't there…

"Good afternoon." She started, letting her eyes wander the grand atrium. Panes of glass in the ceiling cast artificial sunlight into the room, bathing half the floor in a warm, golden light. The Parliament could hold all five hundred members and representatives from the UN, the Enforcer Corps, the Caldari Corporations and every single separately representing individual from assorted countries, as well as high-ranking officials, officers and politicians.

In short, it was a goat marked at the best of times.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Parliament, esteemed colleagues of the Alliance armed forces, navy and intelligence. Lords and Ladies of the United Nations assembly, esteemed generals and officers of the Enforcer Corps, Spacelane Patrol and United states of America." God, she hated the introduction part. It was _always_ hellishly long, drawn out, and unnecessary; "I come before you today with several pieces of news from the Military Research Department. Some, you will find merely interesting. Some will shatter your views on reality, science and the Human race. Others, will just upset you."

Murmurs and whispering broke out among the members. Typically, really. One simple declaration, and hundreds of adults would start gossiping like girls in the schoolyard.

"For the first part of this session, I would like to start out with the interesting part." She looked around with hard eyes as murmurs and whispering both silenced. Good; "For the past half year, scientists on Arcturus, led by Doctor Brynn Cole, have worked late hours bringing the science of warfare to new frontiers. Tirelessly, these people have worked on and developed machinations and technology that all is the reason you and I remain alive and breathing at this very moment."

A heavy silence, for once, as the assembled mulled over her words.

"It all started after the attack on Eden Prime, when Alliance soldiers were attacked by geth wielding a very unusual type of offensive ordinance. Plasma weaponry, ladies and gentlemen. _Plasma_ weaponry." She emphasized on the word. Had to, to get it into those tick heads of theirs; "For those of you not working with handheld weapons for a living, let me tell you _why_ this was a problem for our soldiers: Plasma weapons fire bullet-sized spheres of magnetically contained, ionized and superheated gasses. These gasses have the same approximate mass as oxygen, and thus insufficient mass to activate kinetic barriers. As a result, our soldiers were slaughtered."

Horrified and outraged whispers from the human audience. Mollified and disturbed whispers from the Quarians.

"After six months of hard work, this attack has finally given something back to the Alliance. With your permission, I will now allow Doctor Brynn Cole to speak, and to explain the workings, advantages and technicalities of the two most groundbreaking developments that have come from this." She turned to regard Cole, who was remaining diligently silent. An image of professionalism; "Doctor Cole?"

"Ma'am." Cole nodded and stepped up to the podium. She was wearing, for once in her life as it was, something _else_ than her lab-coat and gloves. A standard Alliance uniform, marked with WR&amp;D insignia that had stayed the same since the Pandora-incident thirty years prior; "I am honored to be here, Lords and Ladies of Parliament, honored Assembly. I am Doctor Brynn Cole, head of Admiral Fisher's main research department. Seven months ago, unacceptably many of our serving men and women were cut down by geth weapons, for the very simple reason that our barriers just do not register near-massless projectiles."

There was more murmuring this time, with less apparent respect for the speaker. Not surprising, really, seeing how _Cole_ had never castrated someone before Seventeen billion humans on live television. You just can't buy that kind of reputation. Unperturbed by the childish behavior from mankind's leaders, Cole opened her Omnitool and keyed in the commands. Moments later, the panels in the ceiling darkened, and a massive projection came to life in the center of the Atrium.

What came into being, holographically speaking, was a circular device with multiple layers upon layers making up its appearance. It turned lazily in 3D. Cole cleared her throat;

"This is the MIB-module, or as its full designation is, the Magnetic Insulator Barrier module." A series of whispers, low gasps and murmuring. This time, Anna couldn't silence them with a hard stare for the reason that no one could _see_ her in the darkness; "Our current kinetic shields function by stopping all fast-moving projectiles with a mass approaching the subject. The MIB-module, however, works from…a different concept."

Oh boy, this was the part Anna wasn't looking forward to. She knew some people would laugh at Cole – and she had warned the woman of that very same risk – but the young woman was determined to see it through.

"The MIB runs on a separate, dedicated generator supplying it for extended durations of up to one minute at a time. When active, the magnetic barrier ejects a field around the person wearing it. Upon contact with a charged sphere of plasma, the magnetic charge of the shield will negate the magnetic containment for the projectile. The more power dedicated to the barrier, the more intense projectiles can be stopped. The duration doesn't change though, just the strength. In theory, a complete drain of the generator in one barrier's period will allow the soldier to survive a direct hit from the largest geth ground-based weapons we know of yet: the Colossus."

Cole looked around, and Anna could _feel_ the woman wringing hands behind her back. Still, the doctor had managed better than the old woman had believed possible. She'd managed to make the thirty-second duration pale compared to the power of the barrier itself.

"In such a case, the generator needs at the very least five full minutes to recharge before repeated usage. In direct combat with plasma-firing forces, this is of course a major disadvantage for a soldier in need of protection. So far, our best solution is for each soldier to be equipped with not _one_, but _two_ MIB-modules. These are to be used in separation, and would risk short-circuiting both modules if used simultaneously." Good, good. Cole was doing good, all things considered. Frankly speaking, Anna hadn't even considered the dual-modules until Cole herself had suggested the idea yesterday. Cole held a break sufficiently clear that the audience clapped, some politely, some with honest enthusiasm.

"Doctor Cole, how cost-effective are the modules? Can they be mass-produced?"

"Do they require Element Zero as a component?"

"On what stage is this defense? Can we use it tomorrow?"

"Is it possible to scale this up to counter ship-grade weapons?"

God, so many questions. Anna was just glad she wasn't the one they were aimed at. Waving her Omnitool, Cole brought light back to the room while retaining the projection. It just got a lot more difficult seeing _what_ it was. The first one Cole nodded to was Han'Gerrel, who had been the one to voice the final question. Curious technic, but Anna decided to let the scientist roll with it. Right now, this was _her_ show.

"That is one of the major advantages to this technology. Due to its simplicity, the energy-supply scales up with the module itself. Thus the barrier for a tank would require a six-to-eight times more powerful generator." Cole started, then her voice took on a more stern tone; "There _is_ a disadvantage though, when applied to thruster-dependent vessels, such as a warship."

"What is it?" The pink-suited Admiral asked with a cautious, yet curious voice.

"When activated, the barrier prevents the hydrogen-powered thrusters from optimally discharging their venting. As a consequence of this, overloading the ship's main kinetic shielding, as well as other crucial systems. The only systems that _will not_ be negatively affected by this in any way whatsoever, is weapons, targeting and overall control. Navigations and propulsion will more or less be useless for its duration, rendering the vessel unmoving in space."

"B- But will that not leave the vessel dead in the water? Easy pickings for heavier ships?" That was something Anna liked about Gerrel. He knew how to act in politics, but had the mind of a soldier. It was probably for the same reason Zaeed like him as well.

"You are correct, mostly, in that assumption, Admiral." Cole nodded slowly, like a teacher almost; "However, there is the difference with the ship-grade barrier that a when the thrusters no longer have to work, a _lot_ of excess energy is available. Thus, instead of the thirty seconds smaller generators are limited to, warships from cruiser-class and up will be able to reroute enormous amounts of power from thrusters to defensive systems. We have dubbed it 'going into _siege mode'_ for the warship. It essentially becomes a stationary weapons-platform, with the distinct advantage of being able to end the barrier at any given point of time, and leave the battlefield in the case of overwhelming opposition."

"Sounds doable, I'll give you that much, yes…How long can a dreadnought then sustain this 'siege mode', as you call it?"

"Optimal duration is currently locked at ten minutes, five if both barrier and kinetic shielding is activated. In this duration, the kinetic shielding could receive enough power to amplify it up to six-hundred percent. Estimations suggest this more than makes up for the lack of mobility."

"Possibly…Has any testing been carried out as of yet?"

"We are still at the proto-type stadium, Sir. We're expecting to deliver a shipment to one of the orbital stations around Rannoch for the…_orthodox geth?_ to test out before we begin actual mass-production."

"I see…Thank you, Doctor." The Quarian nodded and sat back down. Cole turned to another Admiral, Kahoku, who had been another of the askers.

"This device operates entirely on magnetic principles, Admiral. Thus, it does not require Element Zero at all. This will also, if tests prove the simulations correct and we can indeed make use of the MIB, drastically cheapen the module, enough so that we can easily produce two for each soldier expected to encounter plasma-weaponry in direct combat." Bam, good girl. She just answered two questions with one.

Actually, she just answered them all. _I knew I picked her for a reason_.

"If there are no further _immediate_ questions, with your permission, I will now proceed to the second of our major breakthroughs" Cole once more dimmed the room, before anyone else had a chance to raise his or her hand like a schoolchild, and the projection changed to one Anna had been watching over_ very_ closely for months now.

This time, instead of something obviously for defense, the displayed object was clearly meant for _offense_. And as for the testing, there really was no need. Several members of the Normandy-crew had already proven its effectiveness.

"This is the PR-2184DC Assault Rifle, commonly referred to as the DC-84." Cole spoke a bit louder to make sure the gossiping officials knew to shut up; "Similar to the MIB-module, this weapon was first initiated in the wake of the attack on Eden Prime. However, as many of you might know, Humanity already attempted creating plasma-weapons _before_ the discovery of the Mars ruins. When we realized what the Mass Effect could do for projectile weapons, the development of plasma-weapons became a niche."

Anna could practically _feel_ the shame radiating from several members of Parliament. She felt all giddy at the sensation, really.

"The Reaper-controlled Geth incursions, however, revealed the obvious fact that kinetic shields were unsuited for protecting soldiers against plasma-weaponry, and thus the fact that plasma-weaponry could bypass kinetic barriers." God, if Cole was even _capable_ of sounding smug, this would be her 'smug' voice.

Anna kinda liked it.

"The DC-84 makes uses compressed gasses of various composition as its ammunition. The most effective, both for use in handheld weapons as well as ship-grade armament, has proven to be a synthesized gas dubbed Methygen-3, as its make-up components are methane and hydrogen-3. Both can be feasibly produced and combined, to answer the question of ammunition-cost." Cole brought up a simulation that showed firstly the synthesizing of methane and hydrogen-3, then a fusion of the two gasses to make up Methygen-3. The whole thing was very simplified and cinematic, pleasing to the simple observer and all that. Then the Doctor returned attention to the actual weapon, now that the ammunition had been somewhat explained;

"The DC-84 can theoretically be made in several variants. Our current focus lies with this version, the prototype DC-84 Carbine. The weapon measures at one-point-five meters, weighs roughly four-and-a-half kilos and fires semi-automatically. Simulations show it to have an effective range of five hundred meters if each shot is spaced by roughly one second. We have, however, tested this weapon in the shooting ranges…" which was a lie, but Anna knew Cole couldn't tell them it was because Boss, one of Taskforce 'Aspect of Fire' – God, Price was right: the name _sucked_! – had supplied them with plenty of practical data from his use of the weapon. So, Cole had to lie to the assembled Alliance Parliament; "and testing has revealed that distances over fifty meters requires the weapon to first ionize the air by means of a laser, _then_ it can fire." Boss's rifle had still been able to completely disregard _that_ part, and Anna was pissed that the commando had been…unwilling, to turn over his weapon for direct disassembly and reverse engineering.

"Each rifle, and yes, we have constructed multiple prototypes, is capable of containing enough gas for roughly four-five hundred shots, depending on the purity of the Methygen and the charge used for ionization. Ionization happens when the real issue of this weapon, the power pack as we call it, charges a small amount of Methygen in its separate firing-chamber, then fires it out through the magnetic bottleneck. We have both a smaller, more compact version in development for full-automatic fire, and a long-range version we hope to develop at some point in the near future. Depending on the electric charge used for each shot, a single bolt can penetrate a standard hardsuit's armor and severely injure or kill the soldier underneath. Also, this weapon is an excellent choice of offense against synthetics. The reason for this is rather simple, actually. " Cole said, taking a break to get some fresh air down her lungs before continuing; "By setting the electrical charge to its highest, this rifle allows the soldier to fry parts of synthetic circuits, even if the plasma itself doesn't penetrate the target's armor."

When Cole finally ended her presentation ten minutes, and a million questions later, Anna was beaten to being the first to applaud the woman. Mainly because she wasn't sure if applauding Cole wouldn't also mean applauding herself, which would seem a bit silly.

"Thank you, Doctor Cole." Anna stepped forward again as the lights came back on. Cole nodded and stepped backwards, allowing Anna to once more assume the podium. As she took in the attending faces, the curious and still slightly awed expressions, Anna had to fight hard to suppress a grin. Instead, she kept her face a mask of mildly amused seriousness; "Now, Honored Assembly, you have been presented with the interesting part."

"That was just the _interesting_ part?" several voices came from below her. She nodded, and keyed in her own command for the projection. The visage of the DC-84 vanished, and was replaced with an orbital view of Alchera, pre-Collector crash.

"Indeed. Now we come to the part where your jaws are going to hit the floor. Please ensure it's clean beneath you." She gave them all a slight grin, then started her own presentation; "The view before you is Alchera, Amada System near Omega. This is footage taken by the SSV Sleipnir, right after it dispatched soldiers groundside to investigate a battlefield left behind from unknown forces."

Several frigates and two more cruisers came into view. The planet below retained its shine, and the room was bathed in a white glow from the projection.

"In approximately ten seconds, an unknown vessel will emerge from the Relay. Observe." As she spoke, it was clear that whatever controlled the camera turned its attention towards the closest Relay as well, invisible to the naked eye as it was due to distance alone. Still, from the energy-spikes she'd allowed to be shown together with the recording, all attending could follow as the Relay spun into action, and a new vessel clearly emerged from it; "What you are going to see now has far-reaching consequences, and will likely demand drastic changes to the entirety of galactic society."

After that, she was silent, and watched as the naval skirmish unfolded in Alchera's orbit. She watched, and listened to the horrified gasps as a cruiser was speared from bow to stern, and summarily exploded in a radiant fireball. She watched as the SSV Sleipnir turned a daring move and soared in close to the enemy warship, an ugly beehive strapped around a particle-cannon, and fired the blue-white beam of plasma straight into its chunky surface.

As the Sleipnir continued firing all guns, the assembly watched in silence as the Collector warship slowly crashed towards Alchera's surface. When it was but a blip against the white-blue ice, she cleared her throat;

"Now, while this skirmish took place, we also had soldiers on the ground. Before you start asking questions, we're going to watch the next part from their viewpoint." As she spoke, Anna keyed in the next section, and the camera changed to the helmet-cam of Captain Jane Shepard, CO of the Taskforce; "Currently, these soldiers have only just been warned of the impending crash. They know the shuttle won't save them, and they know biotic barriers won't either. Let's see what's happening."

And they did. Anna watched, along with the five-hundred-strong audience, as the Collector ship came into view some ten kilometers away. It was massive, it was burning, and it was still structurally sound enough that the impact would wipe out everything in a radius of twenty kilometers, if not more.

There were astonished gasps and shouts when they watched Service Chief Aquila rip the ground open with her bare hands and a stomp, then disbelieving murmurs as the entire team jumped into the opened hole and sealed it behind them.

"What manner of-"

"Sssshhhhhh!" she bit back at whomever had spoken. The person shut back up, but she knew everyone would be bursting with questions now. Already, Cole's presentation was likely forgotten, and all attention was on what the hell was happening, _had happened_ on Alchera.

The video was with audio, so they could all follow as Shepard gave orders to her soldiers, shouted and cursed as they discovered the incoming Collectors. They all both heard and saw it when Aquila was ordered to raise cover, and pulled a rock-wall out of the ground.

When the horned Collector's, dubbed 'Oni's by the Office of Naval Intelligence, landed, the audience gasped once more as the insectoids pulled the same stunt as Aquila, and ripped rock-walls out of the ground for cover.

They all heard it when Shepard ordered Anna's brother to go out there and kick some ass, and they all saw as one soldier leapt out of cover to retrieve another, Aquila, followed by a new soldier catching fire, _green_ fire, and charged the Collectors. _Yep, ladies and gentlemen. You are all bearing witness to the rediscovery of firebending. Dante Basco would have been proud, I think._

The assembly stared aghast as fire, rock and ice was flung and punched between the firebending soldier and the Oni in front of him. Multiple times, it seemed, the fight could go both ways. It was obvious that the insectoid was the more experienced with bending, while it was clear that the soldier's firebending was the more powerful ability. In that, they were tied.

"_Burn!"_ the soldier screamed in clear rage as he jumped forward, both hands ablaze with the intent of scorching his opponent from existence. Instead though, the Collector managed to grab a hold of him and stopped the attack head-on.

What followed was about the shortest wrangling-match Anna had ever watched, followed again by her brother head-butting the Collector in the face, crushing its…_nose_? Whatever it was, it made the insectoid scream in pain and release him. The soldier was then kicked backwards onto the ground, followed by the Collector glowing a golden hue and raising itself into the air.

"_**Time to take care of things personally, it seems…"**_ Anna wasn't surprised when the audience reacted with disbelief to the voice. Even though she knew the recording couldn't do its creepiness justice, the deep baritone voice was still unsettling.

"_**So, you people are the fleshlings who fucked up my experiments?**__" _the Oni, now glowing golden, demanded with a raspy, deep voice. All firing around them stopped as the camera focused on the speaker; "**Oh, how impolite of me, I didn't introduce myself. Of course, Roku probably told you about me, after our little encounter on that ship. The pathetic doo-goodie dumped me on the planet from orbit.**"

Yeah, Rho was creepy as fuck. Whatever physical form he/it possessed, it was next in line for a fission-bomb up its rectum. If it had any, that was.

"**Allow me to explain that part, fleshling. I am Rho, greatest of all you shall ever see, Master of Death and servant of the Harbinger. Also, I kinda need the lot of you dead, so…**" There was a short pause as Rho looked around at the carnage. Anna knew he was the only Collector standing, which he also seemed to realize himself; "**Huh. Well, seems like that's not an option currently. Still, we all know the Harvest is coming, don't we? Say hi to Roku for me.**"

The last thing the video showed was Rho releasing the Collector from control, leaving it to become dust. After that, Anna relit the room, and the artificial sunlight once more bathed the atrium in its warm glow. No one in the room seemed to feel it though, hundreds of eyes looking to the Admiral for answers.

They all verbally stormed her, standing in their seats, shouting like disillusioned children and frightened adults alike. For once, she didn't blame them, even if they as of yet didn't know the fully terrible truth. Raising his hands, the Prime Minister motioned for them to shut the hell up;

"Order. Order!" Shastri called over the turbulence and noise. Slowly, the audience obeyed him, settling down in their seats. The room was left with an atmosphere of doubt and confusion so thick it could have stopped bullets; "Admiral, will you _please_ explain to us what the hell that was?"

"I will, Prime Minister." She nodded respectfully, turning from him and back to her audience. This was it. Her one shot at getting Humanity in gear; "Honored Assembly, these insectoid beings are our friendly neighborhood mass-abductors. Intelligence has identified them as Collectors. We-"

"_Collectors_?" outraged voices shouted; "Admiral, what is this, a joke?"

"…_No_." she ground out, tempted to fling her gun at the voice; "There have been multiple sightings of these beings, both in Alliance Space and in the Terminus as well. We have reason to believe they are the ones responsible for the latest mass-disappearances of human colonies in the Traverse. We don't know why, but the fact remains that recovered footage from one of our lost fleets showed a clear image of the previously depicted warship, then nothing. Latest colony to vanish was Quana, in the Theseus system. When Alliance warships arrived at the scene, all that was left was a field of debris left after the Spacelane Patrol forces on site had been destroyed. The Alliance found just _one_ escape-pod intact out there. Out of two-thousand people, just ten survived. Their story confirms what intelligence now believes these creatures to be."

"Admiral, even _if_ these really are Collectors, don't you think there's a more pressing issue at hand?" one of the UN dignitaries demanded. When Anna nodded for him to continue, he did so; "We saw both these 'Collectors' _and_ humans do unnatural things in that recording. Can you confirm that we saw one man catch fire, and a woman pull a wall out of the ground with a mere _stomp_?"

Great, there went her schedule.

"Yes." Her answer made most of the atrium resound with expressions of disbelief and confusion. Sighing, Anna filtered through the subjects for the meeting until she found the desired object. Dimming the light yet again, she put it on projection; "And this is what made it possible for our soldiers to do just that."

"A shield-module?"

"No, far from it." She shook her head in amused, yet still annoyed denial; "To best explain this, I'll go a bit into some human history. Especially the Chinese dynasties of the Fourth century. You see, it was recently discovered that the so-called 'Chi-system' described by ancient philosophers, is a very much real thing. Since then, scientists working under Doctor Cole have managed to nail down two different ways this expresses itself with the human body."

Pausing, she called up a zoomed image of Thomas, though to the atrium he was just another anonymous soldier. On the image, his hands were both ablaze with emerald flames.

"One way it does that is by fire. Yes, you actually heard me say it: It gives humans the ability to produce fire from nothing but the energy within their bodies." She held up a hand to forestall the mandatory bouts of shouted denial and accusations of her wasting their time; "I know. It sounds utterly impossible. However, so did telekinesis until the discovery of Element Zero. This time, the discovery was simply not an exotic element, but a part of our own bodies we have overlooked for almost two millennia. The flames do not harm the soldier, but still remains at temperatures measured up to two-thousand degrees Celsius…"

She allowed that one to sink in, then changed the image to a repeating slow-motion of Aquila ripping up a wave of rocky spikes from the ground with a mere double-punch.

"Another documented expression is a trait surprisingly already long-since seen with the Krogan. The ability to command and control earth, rock and metal by merely enforcing your will upon it. As such, the soldier you see on the projection is able to move tons of rock and soil with a mere stomp to the ground, or a punch, if you prefer."

Stunned silence. Good.

"There will likely be some of you now, thinking in the lines of 'Four elements', from ancient Greek philosophy. So do we, and so far it seems to be paying off. We have Fire and Earth nailed down, as do the Collectors, as you might have noticed. We have reason to believe that this is not an isolated trait, but that the entirety of their race might share these "supernatural" abilities. Needless to say, their ability to burn their enemies alive by the flick of a wrist, or bury them in a rockslide, spells a heavy disadvantage for our forces. That is why we developed the Warlock-module." She changed back to the module on display.

Still silence. Damn.

"The technicalities have all been sent to each your personal terminal, but I'd still like to just give a short overview. The Warlock-module is similar to the Biotic Amplifier, in the sense that it grips into the neural net of the soldier. What makes it _different_ though, is a couple of things. First, the module doesn't require the soldier to born with pre-existing abilities, everyone has the same Chi-network in their bodies. Second, the module also grips into _that same network_, activating a dormant gene that has kept mankind from fully utilizing our natural gifts. And third, as some of you might have guessed: it doesn't use Element Zero."

"Admiral, are you saying you have found a way for humans to, what, _firebend_?" Sullivan Kahoku exclaimed in disbelief.

"If you want to use the cinematic terms: Yes, we have made firebending _and_ earthbending a scientific possibility. We still "lack", if you will, the ability to grant humans hydrokinetic abilities, not to mention "Airbending". Still, I would not be the least bit surprised if we actually _do_ end up discovering those abilities to hold, if you'll excuse the pun, _water_ as well."

"I'll be damned…" Kahoku muttered, slumping back in his chair.

"Yes, though these discoveries must not be allowed to take away our focus from what is coming." Anna nodded, turning to once again regard the Parliament as a whole; "The Reapers are coming. I know it, you know it. The Council knows it as well, but denies it fervently."

"Quite true." Shastri confirmed gravely; "Whenever I try contacting either the Council, Palavan, Thessia or Sur'Kesh with this, I am turned away with scoffing remarks. It would seem the Alliance stands alone in this, for the time being…"

"I agree, which is why I request that, while not 'Ragnarok', we initiate Protocol 'Hephaestus'." Numerous gasps and denials, arguments and accusations echoed throughout the chamber. Yeah, she knew she wouldn't be popular on that one.

"The Citadel Races would view this as us preparing for war!"

"Do you want to _provoke_ the Hegemony, Admiral?"

"We're in the middle of a recession; we can't afford this kind of spending!"

"You already have your blank check, now you want _more_?!"

"_Let_ them see it as us preparing for war, then!" Anna yelled out, silencing the atrium; "Right now, the Batarians are the _least_ of our concerns. We all know what Sovereign was, the recession doesn't matter one bit if we're not prepared for the Reapers!" Because by God, they were not ready;

"And a blank check doesn't make much of a difference when the only shipyards I can use are the ones on this station. The Auckland Drive-yards, Manhattan Spaceport and Lagrange-2 Shipyards are each equipped with twice the capacity for construction of warships as Arcturus, and what have you built since we found out the Reapers were coming? _Six cruisers._ Six! I've constructed two Goliath-class warships, _ten_ dreadnoughts and _twenty_-_six_ cruisers! Am I the _only_ _one_ taking this threat seriously?!"

"What is it you _want_, Admiral?" the delegate from Austria growled; "That we prepare for _Totalen__ Krieg?_"

"I want Earth to get off its ass and start producing warships by the dozens!" she slammed her first down upon the table, angrily shifting the image to the one of Nazara wreaking havoc on Alliance warships in the 'BotC'; "Every time the Alliance has fought these monsters, _I _was the one leading the charge. _I _was the one losing people by the thousands while everyone else sat on their asses and twiddled thumbs!"

More shouting, and this time, she couldn't shut them up with a glare. God dammit, how could the _leaders of mankind_ be such a collections of dumbasses?

"Order! Order! Dammit people, Order!" Shastri called out. For once, Anna was glad to hear his voice, because peace-lover as he was, at least he could get Parliament to shut the hell up; "Admiral, I realize that you feel it is necessary for us to completely militarize our species, but the fact of the present is, we just don't have that kind of resources."

"Well wee-do-da-doo, isn't that a surprise?" she growled, glaring daggers at Shastri and his feet. His feet, that was just because; "So instead we sit back and pretend nothing's wrong? Then why did we even leave the Council's jurisdiction if we're going to tote around like they are?"

"I didn't say we would just sit back, Admiral." Shastri admonished her with a hard tone. She wasn't sure if it was meant for her or the audience, and frankly, she was past caring; "I said that a complete militarization of mankind, with all manufacture being dedicated towards military means, is simply not possible as it is on an instant's warning."

Well, he _did_ sound like he was leading up to something, at least. She might as well let him speak, considering it was him or five-hundred bitching morons. She motioned for him to continue, while idly noting the dozens of news-cameras following the whole thing from the civilian stands.

"As the Systems Alliance currently is, we're hard-pressed to meet the demands for security among our colonies, as well as securing trade-routes between the Sol and Tikkun systems. Even if we declared martial law, it would take years for us to match the ship-capacity we need to possibly combat an armada of Sovereign-class Reapers."

"So, you're saying we're fucked?"

"I'm saying we're under a certain pressure." Shastri admitted. And on live-tv even; "As it is, there is no way the Alliance can match the Reapers in Quantity, even with the Migrant Fleet retrofitted and repaired. Therefore we need to match them in numbers from the other species', and with superior technology like what you have demonstrated for us today."

"…Go on."

"Even if we pulled all stops, the amount of warships we could manage to produce before the Reapers arrive would be…insufficient, to put it mildly." A heavy silence, weighed by growing fright reigned Parliament as the leader of the Systems Alliance openly admitted to _not being ready_. Still, Shastri was a politician before anything else, Anna doubted he'd just let his words hang like that. And he didn't either; "_However_, starting with the Arcturus Navy, we can dedicate all Systems Alliance spaceports, dry-docks and shipyards to the singular purpose of equipping mankind's warships with cutting edge weaponry, cutting edge shields and the best technology available to any level of mankind's militaries."

"And the Cyber warfare suite?" she cocked a brow; "We all know what happened the last time a Reaper got a grip on the ship's systems."

"What do you suggest, Admiral?" Well now, wasn't that a surprise? Shastri was asking for _her_ advice. She was going to pounce on it, galactic reaction be damned.

"We are currently developing a completely new series of Smart Artificial Intelligences. The Hammer of Vengeance already has its own dedicated Intelligence suited for Cyber warfare, and more are being made every day." Seeing how Shastri, surprisingly enough, didn't start arguing, she continued; "These Artificial Intelligences are vastly superior to the geth, and possess organic minds constructed by use of actual brain-scans. As an example, the Supercarrier SSV Albert Einstein is currently assisted by its very own AI, bearing the same name, visage and mentality of the genius whose name the ship itself bears."

"What of the risk that we will see a repeat of the geth-uprising?" Daro'Xen inquired. She sounded more curious than actually worried.

"Won't happen." She glanced at Xen, wearing her Alliance-envirosuit; "We treat the AI as synthetic personalities, on par with human beings. They are sentient, and we view them as such. Therefore, they are as human in mind as we are."

"Interesting take on the situation, I'll say." Xen mused; "I am curious if this will come back and wreak havoc later. For now though…interesting."

"Admiral Fisher, can you guarantee these synthetics will not turn on the Alliance?" Shastri gave her a concerned look, to which she nodded. The Prime Minister exhaled, visibly relieved; "Then it has my permission. As for the ships themselves, what's the overall readiness?"

"The Tenth and Eleventh fleet took some heavy losses in the Reaper-incursion. We're currently holding at eighty-five percent of our original numbers, and a lot of my ships have only been updated with the new torpedoes. We need Mithril-shielding for roughly fifteen-hundred warships in total, not to mention new plating for roughly the same amount. The Goliaths are all up to date, which saves considerable time."

"The Sixth Fleet, along with the sixth Flotilla, suffered catastrophic casualties in the Battle for the Citadel." Petrovsky stated coolly; "We're down to two ships in the flotilla, and most of the heavy cruisers in the Fleet need repairs, or are held up in the dry-docks at Lagrange-2."

"The Seventh Fleet is intact, Prime minister." Kahoku stated next; "We are at optimal capacity, though most of the ships are severely outdated in technology."

"What of the First, Third and Fifth fleet?" Shastri asked aloud. Instead of Stephen replying though, no one did. _Oh crap. Please don't tell me he's having another session _now_ of all times…_

"Admiral Hackett's fleets are at optimal capacity, and the Fifth fleet is fully equipped with both high-end shielding and the new torpedoes." Captain Anderson replied in his place. Odd, but not surprising. Anderson was a competent officer, so it spoke to reason Stephen had appointed him in his place; "Barriers and armor-plating stills needs the update in all fleets though, but that's it."

'_That's it', he says_' Anna chuckled to herself with little mirth. _I can already see the retrofits taking several_ _years_.

Still, as the assorted admirals and captains in charge of their respective fleets, flotillas and battlegroups reported in, she felt a little better than she had when entering the room an hour ago. Shastri was actually taking this seriously – it would seem – and was making preparations. At least that was something.

She just hoped it would be enough.

* * *

Codex Entry: PR-2184DC Assault Rifle

The DC-84 Assault Rifle is one of the most groundbreaking inventions to come from the Alliance Weapons Development Program, though the name is something of a misnomer: The weapon is semi-automatic, and therefore a Carbine, rather than an actually full-auto Assault Rifle. While the use of this weapon allows the soldier to carry significantly more ammunition than a mass-accelerator weapon, the DC-84 remains a heavy 9.5 pounds. Even so, the DC-84 is very powerful and deadly in the hands of soldier properly trained in its use.

The weapon's Methygen gas cartridge carries enough gas for up to 500 shots, depending on the power settings of the weapon, while the charge pack lasts about 50 shots on the standard anti-infantry setting. To replace a charge pack, the user hits the release button located directly behind the pack, slides it out, and puts in a new one. To replace the Methygen cartridge, however, remains the more difficult action. The wielder snaps open the rifle and removes the old cartridge from the buttstock, and then snaps it back in place. On the top of the rifle is placed a laser-sight meant for ionization of long-distance targets, with a wiry switch on it that controls the power settings to the weapon. Its power-charge magazines ionizes the gas into charged plasma within its ignition chamber. These bolts will then be accelerated out of the rifle through an electromagnetic bottleneck. The Tungsten-barrel will then compress the plasma into a thin bolt, capable of penetrating kinetic barriers with little difficulty. On the high setting, the large rifle's powerful blue plasma bolts are more than capable of penetrating the armor of most infantry personnel, and because of the hyper-ionization, they are theorized to be exceptionally effective against both synthetic and living targets.

In addition to standard iron sights on the rifle's upper surface, the DC-84 could interface with the helmets of soldiers to project a graphical gun-sight on the soldier's heads up display. It also includes a sniper scope that could double as a handhold in storage position. On maximum power, a shot from a DC-84 could leave a 0.3 meter hole in any concrete wall; however, firing at maximum power demanded a higher rate of power consumption; while on the low power setting a DC-84 gas cartridge would last for 500 shots (300 shots on high power). The DC-84 is intended for fighting against larger and more heavily armored enemies such as the Brute and the geth Colossus on open battlefields, whereas the DC-84S, a prototype version that combines a more compact frame with full-automatic firing, will be less bulky and easier to maneuver when engaging in close combat in the cramped confines of indoor structures or warship corridors.


	34. Delta, Demon and Eve

Coral system, Horsehead Nebula

Planet SA2168-5 – Tau Volantis

The iced over surface of a small, dead planet was not usually where a Systems Alliance SpySat would be pointed. SA2168-5 was, by all rights and counts, a barren planet, unfit for living beings in all but the fact that its atmosphere was remarkably Earth-like. Regardless of oxygen though, the planet had a standard temperature of -19 Degrees Celsius, thus making any actual settlement cost-ineffective at best.

Catastrophic at worst.

Nevertheless, this was where an Alliance SpySat, located in an unnamed pocket of the Horsehead Nebula was looking. The machine itself was little more than a huge telescope, measuring twenty meters over the axis. The apparatus was driven by solar energy from its nearby star, and protected from radiation and debris by kinetic barriers and radiation-shields. This machine was currently carrying out a directive sent through its programming by the Executive Officer of Alliance Intelligence, Nadir Boruah. Boruah, again, reported directly to the Alliance Arcturus Military Command, and thus to his Superior Officer, Admiral Cologne Fisher.

This directive, while technically not 'illegal', was highly classified, and thus kept from unwanted eyes by a ten-base rotatory code-system, resetting itself with each attempt at breaking its cipher. The directive itself, however, would to most appear rather mundane. The SpySat was currently monitoring organic activity on t surface of the planet dubbed 'Tau Volantis', by the organization owning it.

Said organic activity referred to the human-centric organization known as 'the Church'.

* * *

**Delta, Demon and Eve**

* * *

August 4th

Arcturus station, Arcturus Stream

Apartment owned by Ashley M. Williams and Thomas V. Fisher.

06:00

When the clock finally ticked to the fatal number of oh-six-hundred in the morning, Thomas was woken from his sleep by the vibrations on his wrist. The alarm had been wired to a silent alarm so as to not wake up Ashley.

Best the same, really. Pregnancy had made her kinda cranky in the mornings. Nothing _serious_ – thank the gods! – but she did _not_ approve of early mornings.

"Right, right…got it…" he muttered, crawling out of bed.

When he stood, Thomas couldn't keep himself from looking down, despite having seen the same sight so many times before. And yet, it was one he could never tire off, mainly because he was looking at the two most important people in his life.

Ashley hadn't woken up when he did, and was thus still asleep on the bed, covered by the blankets up to her shoulders, where just the black string revealed her to be somewhat dressed underneath. Once, this sight alone would have been something Thomas wouldn't have even dared hoping to ever experience, yet here he was, looking at the sleeping goddess that was his wife-to-be.

And his child, living inside her.

Ashley's family was considerably conservative when it came to childbirths and its methods. It was a good thing he'd never brought up the idea of genetic tampering – something that was almost disturbingly common these days – as Lucia would likely have used that as an excuse to slit his throat.

She liked him, that much he at least knew, but he also knew her priorities were on her daughter and expected grandchild, _then_ on the prospective son-in-law.

Still, old-fashioned as they might be viewed, Ashley had insisted on an obstetric scan, something he hadn't even known what was until she'd sat him down – she did a lot of that lately, most of it on her own because apparently being pregnant was _heavy _– and explained to him where babies came from. At least, that was the overtly simplified way to put it.

So apparently he was expecting a daughter.

Damn

Sometimes he honestly wasn't sure who was the more terrified at that prospect. Him or Ashley, though he knew she had more right to it, seeing as _he_ wasn't the one supposed to give birth. It was probably still a really painful thing, especially if the Williams' way of doing things was to be suspected.

That wasn't to say he wasn't thrilled beyond belief at the prospect, however. Because he was. When Ashley had declared the results of the scans, it had been the biggest heart-tugger since she'd revealed her pregnancy. Just, with less tears this time around.

With the covers concealing her expanding belly, it really was hard to believe that Ashley was pregnant, just by looking at her. She looked peacefully asleep, muttering small nothings into the pillow that also served as her collector of sleeping-drool. That last one had initially thrown him a new one a bit, mainly because he in all his youthful cluelessness about women, hadn't realized sleep-drooling was a unisex thing.

_I really am a lucky bastard._

Once, Roku would have offered his two-cents on this, but now, ever since their separation, Thomas' thoughts were his own. As such, he could only nod to himself and realize that he really, truly was. He would be spending the rest of his life with this sleeping beauty – in the mornings that was probably more a subjective thing –, he was going to be a dad, Ashley's family _didn't_ despise him, he had friends and colleagues he trusted with his life and he had family of his own, in Anna.

The fact that his sister would probably see to it that he spent that _rest of his life_ working his ass off for the Alliance, was just a minor irritation. He was a soldier of the Systems Alliance, a progenitor of the Chi-Soldier program and a member of a special operations taskforce.

Vacations weren't even on the schedule.

And now he had to go and meet up, plunging himself yet again into the madness that was fighting whatever the galaxy threw at them.

Strapping on his uniform, socks and boots, his last action before closing the door was to kiss his fiancée on the forehead. Then, leaving her to a morning in, he evacuated the apartment and made his way for the Assembly Room.

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream.

Corridors, Military section.

06:41

Thomas had more than once – in the months he'd been under the command of Jane Shepard and subsequently Anna Fisher – been in the situation of looking around the current room, and realize just how surreal it actually was to have a War Room dedicated to a single team.

It had been more than a month since the near-catastrophe on Alchera. The team had survived intact, but Command had somehow still decided that this proved just how fallible a tactic it was to send the entirety of the taskforce out in a single group.

In a way, he supposed he couldn't really blame them. If it hadn't been for Tequila's abilities, it was highly unlikely anyone would have been able to withstand the shockwave from when the Collector ship crashed into the surface. The Service Chief had somehow ended up in a relationship with Thomas's long-time friend, and neither seemed to be able to actually explain how it had happened.

Teresa Aquila had seen a promotion of sorts, when Command had decided that the taskforce was to be split into segments instead of a single, massed group of soldiers. This too, he could understand. Aquila had been made team-leader of one of three teams now making up the unit, while Boss had been granted the other post. Jane retained her position as commanding officer of the overall group, but trusted her colleagues and subordinates to act professionally under their new CO's. The taskforce itself had also seen some work, after Admiral Fisher's label 'Aspect of Fire' had been forcefully remade by the Office of Alliance Naval Intelligence.

As such, the taskforce itself was now Taskforce Aspect, while the three individual teams were labelled:

'Aurora' – Cpt. Jane Shepard's team. It consisted of Captain Shepard, Corporal Adrian Dwaine, John-117.

'Delta' – Lt. Boss' team. It consisted of Sergeant Boss Delta-38, Corporal Hillary Pennyloafer, Gunnery Chief Ashley Madeline Williams and Service Chief Thomas Fisher.

'Metal' – S. Chief Teresa Aquila's team. It consisted of Service Chief Teresa 'Tequila' Aquila, Corporal Nicolai Tengberg and Special Operations Initiate Ahsoka Tano.

Thomas honestly could not bring himself to complain, considering he was on team with his fiancée. However, just because they were on different teams did not exclude operations where two or more would carry out joint operations. It usually came down to the specializations of the teams, or even the individuals of the teams.

In the same way, however, it was also not an impossibility that a team would operate without one or more members present. Currently, this was the case with Delta, as Ashley was entering her fifth month of pregnancy. Exhilarated by this as Thomas was, it also meant that it had become impossible to safely put her inside a piece of armor. Her belly was starting to grow big now, and this meant she was effectively off duty.

It meant he wouldn't get to be with her when on missions, but it also meant she was safely on Arcturus, so it was a tradeoff he could live with – even if it meant Ashley sometimes got a little…cranky, at being cooped up away from the action.

It did, however, also allow her the luxury of sleeping in, like now, where he was forced to drag himself silently out of bed to report for duty. He'd left the apartment while his fiancée had still been snuggling into the covers, likely – he liked to pretend – dreaming it was him.

Now, he was walking down the final corridors to the War Room, dressed in his navy uniform, neatly polished shoes clacking against the metallic surface of the floor. With Ashley still stuck as Gunnery Chief, Boss was team leader, and as such it had been the clone who'd called him in for duty.

When he entered the War Room, formerly known as the 'Assembly Room' – though it had seen some serious refurnishing since the creation of the taskforce – he was met with the sight of Boss in loose-fitting, dark casuals, as well as Hillary in hers. Boss was standing in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind his back as his sidearm was holstered on his hip. Hillary, true to tradition, was slouched in three adjourning chairs, head rested on hands behind her head. _She really never does change, does she?_

Thomas snapped to a salute, a motion that had almost become second nature by now. Life in the military, even a career as short as his had been, and in a unit as…unorthodox as this, had still taught him lessons life as a civilian – his _old_ life – never could have.

Boss simply nodded in return, then waited for Hillary to roll and jump to her feet. The young woman was frisky and aware as usual, seemingly utterly unperturbed by the early hours.

"Fisher." The clone lieutenant said; "At ease, Service Chief."

"Sir." He replied, clasping hands behind his back.

"Delta has a new mission, ideal for a three-man operation like ours." Boss started, activating the central table's integrated projectors.

A planet covered in ice, came into view, though this one…Thomas blinked when he looked at the readings. The planet, whatever scans had done this, seemed to be…_covered_ in organic life, yet it was clearly an ice ball;

"Tau Volantis, Coral System-"

"In the Horsehead Nebula, right?" Hillary asked without giving Boss even a second to continue. The Lieutenant directed an irritated glare at the woman, though several months of service with her had obviously taught him that no amount of authority or discipline could change her attitude. And because she was so damn good at what she did, no one ever even bothered anymore. Reluctantly, Boss simply nodded;

"Correct." He paused to bring up a closer image of the planet, highlighting one of several clearly artificial shapes or constructs on the surface; "It is a planet with little worth in minerals, location or even scientific interest. In short, no one wants it. At least, that is until about six years ago, when a certain company purchased the entire planet."

"Why do I already have a bad vibe from this?" Hillary grumbled.

"The Company itself is legal, but deeper investigation by Jormungand has revealed it to be a front-company, a cash-maker for the real organization behind it." Thomas couldn't help the slight scowl spreading on his face. Front companies. That was how he remembered Miranda had once described Cerberus' legal appearance in public. _Fucking bitch._

"Cerberus, Sir?" he asked, both dreading and hoping he was right. If he was, it would just be another clear sign that the organization he had once hoped to befriend was actually far more rotten than anyone had thought possible.

"No." Boss simply stated, causing a frown to appear on Thomas' expression; "Intelligence puts the company as a front for the religious organization known as the Church of Uniotology."

Well. _Fuck_.

"Those cocks again?" Hillary growled, punching her own palm; "This means we're going down there to kill 'em all, right?"

"For the moment, our objectives are to infiltrate the surface and discover the reason for the purchase of an _entire_ planet." Boss said with a short shake of his head; "We're hitching a ride on a Spacelane ship into the system, whereafter a stealth-shuttle will take us to the surface, roughly three clicks from the target. As this mission is wet-work, we will operate with no insignias, no dog-tags and no traceable ties to the Alliance whatsoever."

"Wet-work? _Yessssss_!" the chipper blonde grinned, pumping the air. Boss merely raised a weary brow, too used to her behavior to bother trying. She knew how to behave in a fight, and really, that was all he needed; "Do we get stealth-armor? Suppressed weaponry?"

"Specialized equipment _has_ been prepared for our mission, yes." The commando nodded, then turned to Thomas; "Given the recent discoveries on the MSV Ishimura, we have reasons to suspect the Church to have ties to the Reapers, which is why _we_ are doing this, not Metal and not Aurora. You have the most experience and knowledge of the Reapers, Fisher, which is your main task _should_ this prove the case on Volantis."

"…Awesome." He sighed, offering his superior a nod. Really, he didn't need more Reaper-shit going on now, of all times, and if the Church was involved again…_all those people, Kaidan…just…gone…_

He still remembered watching Kaidan disappear into the hole in the wall, ripped away by a grotesque tentacle of dead flesh. It was something no amount of science should make possible, yet the Church had somehow done it, made _something_ that wasn't supposed to exist. Or, maybe it was because they _were_ with the Reapers.

With Nazara's ilk.

"When do we leave, Boss-man?"

"Now, as a matter of fact." The Lieutenant replied, looking at them both. When he did this, no matter the lighting in the room, the intensity in his eyes always betrayed the shredded soul beneath. Bred to be a soldier or not, Boss had only started being treated like a human being in the Alliance, and it showed; "Head for the armory, get your gear and meet in the hangar. I'll go ahead and greet our ride."

When Boss had left the room, Hillary sighed loudly and popped her shoulders. Thomas, having known the childish woman for almost a year, no longer found her behavior weird. He had simply come to the point of accepting it as Hillary being Hillary.

"Does this mean we're not riding with a whole fleet, for once?" she asked, allowing him to exit the room first. He was taller than her, so his strides were longer than hers. As a result, she did skips as she trailed along, halfway jogging to keep up.

"I guess. I don't know how wet-work works, that's why it's called wet-work, I assume." What else was he supposed to say?

"I hope it's a yacht." She said distantly, almost dreamily. Thomas cocked a brow at her.

"A yacht?"

"You know, one of those mobster yachts with concealed turrets and torpedo-launchers…Never just rode one, you know?" with Hillary's personality, it was often hard to remember that her training extended far beyond that of a regular marine. Thomas actually did not even doubt she had participated in at least _one_ raid like that, though he wasn't awake enough to care about details; "Spa and a minibar, pool-table and buffet…compartments with guns and…Wait, do you think we'll ever get the kind of guns Boss runs around with?"

"Dunno…Seemed like it was big news with the new designs, but so far I haven't seen anything at all. Weird, considering Anna's supposed to be in charge of development…Still, I'd rather get a gun that's proven to work than something that could blow off my hands…well, the one I still have." he muttered offhandedly, glancing at his right hand. Hillary just hummed a tune, walking next to him.

It had been news – surprisingly not very _big_ news – when Anna had revealed the latest in military technology for the parliament. Maybe that was because disappointedly few people ever watched the news these days. It had only taken a few months for people to put the Reaper threat at the back of their minds, just like the Council had done. Still, it was exhilarating to realize that he had been a part of maybe ensuring humanity's survival through this decade; "We get the tech when we do, and hell, it's probably going to be limited to maybe one new gun per team."

"…that _sucks_."

"It does, I agree." And he did. If a single good thing had come out of the hellish misadventure to the Ishimura, it would have to be the technology they had discovered onboard. Kinetic modules, plasma-based weaponry and even Eezo-less weapons like the hovering saw-blade, were all in their own way unique and several steps ahead of what the Alliance possessed; "Don't you still have that chainsaw-thing from the Ishimura, though?"

"No. It broke." It was all she said, in her grumbling tone, and as such he decided to simply let the matter drop. Instead, _she_ broached a new one; "Has Ashley talked to you about the wedding yet?"

"…I'm kinda the one who proposed. Remember?" he realized almost instantly that Hillary required a direct response; "Yes, we talk about it whenever we have a moment to spare. Her mother wants in on the planning, and frankly, that'd a decision I'm perfectly willing to let Ash rule on."

"I meant on the whole ceremony-thing." The blonde corporal pressed as she waved around a pair of marines coming down the corridor. One of the men whistled after her, to which he simply received a bored middle-finger, while Hillary's attention was still on Thomas; "Like, where'd you planned on hosting it, how many people are crashing it, who makes the cake, that kind of shit."

"Probably on Earth, if we can get the leave for it…" he replied with a sigh, dreading what would happen if something came up in the middle of preparation on that fateful day, and everything was ruined because pirates or Collectors or Reapers decided to attack somewhere; "…as for how big a crowd…I have _no_ idea."

"Leaving it to the future mother-in-law, are you?" she asked with that cheeky grin of hers that signified satisfaction in watching her point made. Or, it could simply be because she found something funny; "Because that's _totally_ a great idea."

"…maybe. For now at least, we're still just planning." He replied, and a smile started spreading on his lips when a certain image entered his mind; "We've still got four months before Ashley can't be squeezed into a dress."

In a way, he enjoyed these conversations with Hillary. Yes, she was sassy and annoying as hell on a daily basis, but she was also one of the first people to have welcomed him on Eden Prime, and survive Sovereign's attack.

Her promotion to corporal had come relatively soon after the reports from Ishimura had gone through ANI's databases, though it hadn't been until the middle of April before the actual news came around. There was still a lot he didn't actually know about her, except for the rather disturbing fact that she had apparently grown up in a _bad_ way in Chicago, after her dad had taken her away from her first home on Tiptree. What was not just surprising, but also a little sad, was that she was Joker's half-sister, and the pilot had seemed keen on ignoring her for the entirety of her relatively short stay on the Normandy. Thomas wasn't sure what exactly had happened between the two of them, but he knew Joker wasn't supposed to be the kind of person to neglect or ignore people out of spite.

There was something he'd missed, he just didn't know what.

It didn't help matters that no one had seen Joker in almost two months. It was no secret that he was devastated over the loss of the Normandy, and to a large degree blamed himself for Jon's death. Thomas felt his headache pop up whenever he tried to remember what had happened between standing at the cockpit, and waking up on a Blue Suns ship.

Jane had tried finding the pilot when Anderson had suggested getting the available members of the crew back together. Liara had never replied, though Scorch had actually sent a message to the Captain, detailing some clearly made-up story about office-work on Illium.

Tali hadn't replied. Somehow, Thomas was relieved she hadn't. He wasn't sure what he would have said to her, knowing _he_ had somehow failed in saving Jon. He just hoped she still kept in contact with Jennifer.

Wrex had replied, and had actually sent some chuckles around the crew. Apparently he was busy kicking ass and taking clans on Tuchanka. And, he'd done so without killing his brother, something the Krogan "Ground-pounder" hadn't failed to mention.

But Joker…Jeff had disappeared without a trace. Jane had in the end given up when the trail had ended at a used shuttle-vendor. Now, Thomas just hoped the pilot hadn't repeated his actions from the original timeline – Skjadi's tits, it felt like a lifetime ago when_ that_ had been relevant last time – and joined Cerberus.

The armory they now stopped at was the same they always used. It was not, officially, dedicated to their taskforce, but they were the only people using it, and there seemed to be some sort of unspoken rule for others to never venture inside. Thomas was the higher ranking of the two, so he was the one subjecting himself to a retinal scan of his right, organic eye, as well as placing his right, organic hand on the display. The procedure gave off a little warmth as it identified him. When the lock had cycled open, the doors hissed and slid to the sides, allowing the pair entrance.

The armory itself was roughly the size of the mess hall back on the Normandy. It was a little loftier, but the floor took up the same amount of space. Rows upon rows of weapons lined the walls. Assault rifles, shotguns and everything in-between in small arms. Rows of stands with white-based suits of P-steel armor of both the Phase-II, Bulwark and even a few Paladin suits were on display. The latter was some sort of new, experimental hardsuit of a different material as well as the recognized P-steel. Thomas wasn't sure what to make of it, only that the suit was big, looked extremely heavy, and reminded him a lot of something you could expect to see in a medieval-enthusiasts meeting. Maybe it was something new meant for the Spartan?

Honestly, he preferred to stick with his Phase-II suit, even if it wasn't the most advanced piece of tech on the market anymore. _Heh…imagine that…_

"Do you think this is the 'specialized' equipment Boss mentioned?" Hillary sauntered up to two separate stands with white-patterned sets of armor hanging at the ready. Thomas stepped up next to her and scratched his chin, freshly shaven. Ashley liked to feel his cheeks when they were cozying it up, though she had actually asked him to keep the haircut. Who'd have thought she had a thing for mohawks?

The suit seemed based on the Phase-II design, though with some radical changes to the appearance. Mainly it was the helmet, which seemed like a distant memory of the Clone Trooper winter armor. The difference was the visor, which was not a pair of dark eyes, but instead the same old T-visor, only a matte grey instead of stark black. The entire piece was white, but seemed more dull than sharp in its color. _Like…snow, really. I think this _is_ what Boss meant._

"Winter gear." He said, more of a musing than a reply to the woman, and his eyes wandered to a pair of crates at the feet of each suit. Wordlessly, he knelt down and lifted the lid from the one in front of his suit. He knew it was his, because Hillary's had space for…well, a woman; "Check your crate."

"…_Nice_!" Hillary was the first to speak, practically the instant she saw the contents of crate. Thomas, however, was focused on his own. The crate was roughly the size of a standard foot-locker, and held a wide assortment of equipment, primarily weapons. Thomas lifted the first one up, holding it in both hands as it unfolded.

It seemed to be a newer version of the Mattock, with a smoother design and a shorter barrel, as well as what seemed to be a suppression-module. It was slightly lighter, and lacked the same kind of stock, but otherwise it was a clear match. It was all in white, with dots of smoky greyish white along the weapon. As he rotated the weapon, Thomas saw stenciled letters on the stock, where it would be pressed into his shoulder: _M-37 CAR_. It was not a weapon he was familiar with, but clearly Boss believed the weapon well-suited for the mission at hand.

"Why does my gun say 'Car'?" he asked without looking at his colleague. Hillary puffed a breath, humming like an excited child.

"It means 'Compact Assault Rifle' dumbass." She giggled, as if he had said something silly; "It's not usually issued to regulars though, but you'd better believe they're hot material on the market."

"…the market?" he had to look at her for that, if only to convey his confused look.

"…The _Black_ Market?" she sounded like she wanted to add a 'duh', but refrained; "It's medium-to-short range, fires in bursts of five rounds and can be carried around in your average laptop-compartment. It's sturdy, and I think some versions can even be modded to fire rounds made from ice, dirt and…well, everything you could possibly compact to sufficient integrity, really…Damn, I got a Mk. 5 _Dragunov! _I thought only the Spetsnaz got these things!"

He put the weapon to the side, ignoring Hillary's drooling over what was clearly a long-range rifle. The next thing he lifted from the crate was a small, inconspicuously looking pistol. At this point, however, Thomas was beyond taking things at face value. He'd been in the force long enough that he suspected anything even remotely tied to his sister for being more than it seemed. The first thing that _was_ obvious, however, was the suppression-module similar to that on the M-37, if only a little smaller. The pistol was in a matte grey, just light enough that it wouldn't be easily spotted against a white background. Some sort of word was stenciled into the handle, and Thomas narrowed his left eye to read it. A benefit to bionic bodyparts was that they often surpassed the originals, in this case the eye came with a slightly enhanced zoom. _'Charge'_ was written in neat little letters on the side, just below what actually turned out to be a tiny switch above the trigger. _Better not mess with that now, though…_

The last piece of equipment in the crate was a knife. At first, he thought it was just that: a regular knife. Then he noticed a small switch on the handle. It was then he noticed how the knife felt heavier than it was supposed to, like it was something other than steel. _Titanium maybe?_

When he flipped the switch, his expectations were both satisfied and blown away. The knife started _humming_, of all things. Resisting the urge to throw the thing like it was a grenade about to blow, he instead held onto it, feeling how the vibrations started moving away from the handle, and visibly into the blade itself. Slowly, the edge of the blade started _glowing_, like its surface had been in a forge.

"What…in the Hel?" he muttered, touching the edge against the side of the crate. Instead of resting on the material as he had somewhat expected, the knife _sank through_ like the crate had been made of butter. He promptly withdrew the blade and flipped the switch off again; "Okay…What?"

"Dude, that's a _vibro-knife_!" Hillary exclaimed, then promptly dug through her own crate until she found a similar model, and activated it; "Oh fuck _yeah_ I haven't used one of these since Lunar Base Camp!"

"What…?"

"It's kinda like those Omniblade programs, but a _fuck-ton _handier." She explained, tapping a finger on the integrated Omnitool in her armor's bracer; "They're meant to be locked into the same compartment as a regular combat knife, you know?"

"…right." At least he knew where _that_ was. Otherwise, he very much doubted Hillary would ever have let him live it down.

* * *

Arcturus Station, Arcturus Stream

Military Hangar D-5, Military Section

07:12

Walking around in winter-gear inside the station _definitely_ earned the two of them some looks. The armor at least was thermos-insulated, not over-padded, and as such it at least didn't cause him to suffer a heat-attack. It did have soft-material lining though, preventing light from being thrown too much off, and allowing snow and ice to gather on it. The "soft-material" was actually Kevlar lined with Velcro, something he'd never even considered in a military suit.

Still, it was damn genius, really.

Wearing the helmets also meant that he felt a bit more anonymous behind the visor, enabling him to shrug off the weird looks.

"Feels a bit more heavy, you know?" Hillary asked outside the comms. As such, her voice came out slightly distorted, though her amusement was easily discernable; "I wonder if Boss plans on using his regular armor, or if he's packing something similar."

"Mm." Thomas nodded, uncertain of really what to reply with. When the clone had given them the _brief_ briefing, he'd been in casuals, so he wasn't really sure if something had gone over his head. His, not Boss', that was.

As it turned out, Boss _had_ changed his appearance. He was still in his usual suit of armor, but with the clear difference that he seemed to have undergone a paintjob while no one had been looking. He was snow-white, with faint stripes of grey over shoulders, legs and torso, and his helmet had been dulled from the blue tinted lights to a simple grey, as well as a binocular-addition similar to what Ashley's helmet sported.

"…cheater." Hillary muttered, even as she copied Thomas' salute. The Service Chief shook his head, but inwardly failed to suppress the grin behind his visor.

"I assume you collected the issued weapons?"

"Yes, sir." Thomas replied, tapping his curious sidearm. The Harrier was locked onto his back with magnetic clamps, and the heat blade sat secured in its shoulder-fastener. He glanced to Hillary, seeing the woman with a bit more weaponry than him, locked into place as well. A shotgun, handgun similar to his as well as an SMG bearing a stark similarity to the Locust, but with a longer body, and the barrel almost vanishing into it. Finally, there also was the peculiar rifle taking up most of her back-space. It was a sniper, that much was clear, but the design and model was new to him.

"Good." He replied, then looked to the left at the sound of approaching foot-steps. Thomas and Hillary both followed his eyes, and saw a man striding confidently towards them. He was dark-haired, slightly pale and seemed to be dressed in the dark clothes of a ship-bound serviceman, yet was definitely not in the regular military; "'Service Chief, Corporal, why don't you say hello to Captain Jonathan Luthor, of the Destroyer 'SPV Concord'?"

"Captain." Thomas nodded, trying to figure out what the 'SPV' stood for. Hillary repeated his greeting, a mere second later, and Boss beat him to it with the explanation, as well as gesturing for them to begin walking;

"The Spacelane Patrol Vessels" _so that was what it meant_ "have recently begun carrying out routine check-ups on colonies and human-owned worlds on the rims of Alliance space. Their latest assignment has been changed to the Coral system, to check up on the planet Tau Volantis. It's official business through and through, and nobody's going to even raise a brow at the presence of the ship."

"Just the one ship, Sir?" Thomas asked, slightly surprised that a single destroyer was deemed sufficient to patrol the system. Surprisingly, it was Captain Luthor who responded, and with no small amount of pride in his words too;

"Since the Citadel battle with Sovereign, the vast majority of the Alliance Naval Forces have been hauled in for refitting and overhauls in any available dry-dock and station currently in Alliance." Luthor explained as they walked. Thomas noticed that the man seemed to use his right leg more than the left, and wondered if there was some sort of injury to blame for it; "…As such, the Spacelane Patrol has taken on the responsibility of overseeing the outlying colonies, leaving the regular Alliance forces sufficient manpower to monitor the inner systems, as well as maintain their Relay fleets. In the event that pirates or slavers attack a colony, the Patrol can handle them well enough."

"So, what if the bugs hit you guys. What then?" Hillary skipped to walk next to the Captain, leaving Boss in the curious position of last man trailing. Luthor seemed to darken at her words.

"In that case, we call in as many warships as we can. Preferably Alliance vessels, since our weapons don't seem to possess enough firepower to breach the Collectors' shields." He said, and Thomas nearly missed a step. If it hadn't been for the things Anna had revealed in her Parliament-session, he would have wanted to know how the Captain knew about the Collectors. As it was now, however, he simply glanced at the man from behind his visor; "We're bound for retrofittings ourselves, but not before the Alliance is done with your own ships."

"Why don't you have the firepower to match the Collectors, though?" Hillary mused, sounding more curious than concerned, really; "Shouldn't take much more than a few shots with the spinals to get through their shields, and then just blow them apart?"

"The Hyperion-treaty was only just lifted." Luthor replied dryly, likely unamused by her insinuation that the Spacelane Patrol couldn't do its job; "None of the vessels under Heth's command have been given spinal weapons yet, meaning we as a policing force depend on turrets, torpedoes and missiles. We just _can't_ dish out the same damage as even a light Alliance cruiser."

"Ah, right. I forgot about that part…" she muttered, sounding more than a little sheepish at his reprisal; "So, does that mean you're gonna get spinals after the Alliance is done?"

"Sometime in '85, I assume, yes…" the Captain replied, then seemed ready to change the subject; "As it is, the SPV Concord and her crew, myself included, stand at your disposal, Lieutenant. We are ready to ship out whenever you are."

"Roger that." Boss replied, keying something in on his Omnitool. Thomas couldn't tell what it was, and decided that if it was important, the Lieutenant would let them know about it; "Chief, Corporal?"

"Ready and waiting, Sir."

"Same here. Boss. Good to go."

Boss then simply offered Jonathan Luthor a nod of confirmation, and the Captain led them to the waiting shuttle. It was a Kodiak, but with a deep, grey color-scheme instead of the Alliance Blue-and-white that Thomas had become so accustomed to.

Its interior was far less official, and far more practical, than that of a standard Kodiak shuttle, and Thomas found that each end of the shuttle's cabin was ringed, not with seats, but with a single bench, allowing for the maximum amount of passengers. On the other hand, it meant seated passengers wouldn't have a safety-harness in case of a catastrophically _bad_ crash.

Beneath the bench was a single compartment for anything not weapons-related, such as miscellaneous equipment, whereas weapons unsuited for the wearers' back could be stored on racks in the opposing cabin-wall. The Spacelane Kodiak was not meant for insertions of mass-deployment, and as such it really only needed _one_ opening, leaving the other fit for non-foldable weapons.

Boss remained outside the shuttle for a few moments more than Thomas and Hillary, meeting the shuttle's pilot. The man was dressed almost exactly as Luthor, with the exception of lacking rank-stripes, and a set of headgear specifically meant for piloting a spacecraft. When the clone finally entered, he sat himself down in the seat across from where Thomas and Hillary had planted themselves, and instead of conversing, he immediately opened his 'tool and began going through files. Again, Thomas simply decided to trust the man – he'd proven himself reliable and loyal since Feros, after all, and Sev and Fixers' deaths hadn't stopped him from being that.

Luthor joined the pilot at the front of the shuttle – contrary to Alliance shuttles, this one did not have a pressurized cockpit to allow for extra-atmospheric emergence, but instead a simple wall of fiber-alloy. It was similar to what had been in the Cerberus shuttle Thomas himself had flown from Pragia – and the vessel's thrusters kicked off, lifting it into the air with less roughness than its military equivalents would have.

_Civilian sector by design_. Where had he heard that one again? The memory was there, but it seemed…fuzzy.

While the memory of Pragia itself would likely never cease to haunt him, he took comfort in knowing that Jennifer was safely home in Sweden, with her parents. He could not remember their names, not at this moment, but he would never forget the mother's expression when she saw her supposedly dead daughter before her. That was, he realized, the reason he took pride in his life as a soldier: Protecting, serving and comforting those who did not have the benefit of guns, armor and training.

They were probably under surveillance by MET at this point, so really, Cerberus couldn't touch her.

This mission might not be against Cerberus, not directly, anyway. However, that did not mean Cerberus had nothing to do with it. Jack Harper was known to be a human supremacist, and the implants Thomas had confirmed were indeed in his eyes were likely originating from Reaper technology. As such, any affiliations between Cerberus and the Church would not surprise him all that much. It would be a further disappointment, yes, but not a shock.

Surprisingly, Hillary did not attempt to make banter while they flew from the hangar to the designated docking-ramps. Her face was concealed behind the helmet, and the resistant weave hanging like a scarf from just underneath the visor, gave her an almost ghost-like appearance. Then again, they both wore the same, so he likely looked no better. Or worse, depending on who you asked.

"_Coming in on the 'Concord' from eastern vector._" The pilot said over what seemed to be speakers in the cabin – disregarding the fact that he could have just turned in his seat and called the same thing – prompting the lieutenant to look ahead;

"Roger that, ETA?" Boss replied without missing a beat.

"_Two mikes and counting." _The pilot replied; "_We'll be putting in a screen from the exterior cams."_

Boss did not reply, and instead turned slightly to regard the screen slowly popping into existence on the wall between them, just above the equipment-racks. Thomas, at first, was uncertain as to just what he was looking at.

"Is that a submarine…in space?" he knew it sounded dumb, but he had to ask. Hillary, true to form, reached over and backhanded his helmet with just enough force that he could feel it.

"That, dumbass-who's-marrying-the-Chief, is a Corax-class Destroyer." She sounded somewhere between irritated and amused. Thomas merely turned to give her a flat stare, no doubt it was lost between two sets of visors, though; "It's a design dating back to the First Contact War, before spinals were really all that used on ships below battleship-class ships."

"…Okay, but why does it look like a sub, then?" this time, he simply asked because it was a little funny. He would never admit it, but secretly he actually quite enjoyed the verbal spars with her. He managed to dodge her the second time her hand went for his helmet, resulting in her flickering a gauntleted finger on its forehead instead. Bummer.

"Alliance vessels share traits with some of the very first space-faring vessels of the Old Republic." Boss of all people explained. Thomas raised both brows and looked at the man, as did Hillary, surprisingly enough; "They still bear some characteristics from water-faring ships, which can be seen by prows and hulls being sleeker than what you would see from the Turians or the Asari, species that have less or no history of building warships meant to travel on water."

"Is that why the Venator-class ships don't really look like ships at all?" Thomas mused, intrigued by Boss' rare moment of wanting to share his culture's history. It helped that the Service Chief knew some of it, giving him some context to ask from. Boss cocked his head slightly, in what Thomas had come to realize meant he was pondering something, or maybe was simply mulling it over; "Same with the Separatists?"

"Yeah, that's the gist of it." He nodded, puzzling the younger soldier – though Thomas was actually older with at least a decade. It was funny how that worked, with Boss being something around ten or eleven years old – though the helmet kept his expression from showing it; "Chief, just how deep is your knowledge of the Galactic Republic? I have attempted to ask Aquila, however she refuses to give me more than a short sentence whenever I do."

"That's…" Thomas paused, frowning underneath his helmet. He had told himself that he would reveal nothing of what _could_ happen with the Republic, seeing how Kasumi might just make that crucial difference that lead to Palpatine's fall. He did not want to make Boss or Ahsoka worry, unable to do anything, and then suddenly find out that they'd never needed worry in the first place.

It was a mind-wracker, and a conscious-breaker for sure, but so was so much else in his life.

"…Not a whole lot, really…I know about the Jedi Order and some of its members, I know who's sitting chancellor, and I know the basic details about the ongoing war and the clone army…" he paused, adjusting his position on the bench; "That's…pretty much it."

"I see." He had worried the clone would inquire further, but Boss simply crossed his arms and nodded. Thomas exhaled a small sigh of relief, and looked at the screen where the 'Concord' was growing in size. They were clearly coming in underneath the stern, which meant the vessel shared that design with most Alliance warships. The Normandy had been different, in that her hangar had been frontal – it had sometimes reminded him of the mouth on a predator – likely due to the Turian parts of the design; "When we board the ship, it is imperative that we do not mingle with her crew. The Captain knows about our mission, and he should remain the only one to do so."

"Fearing a spy, Sir?" Thomas asked, but decided to do so over the team's comms.

"Considering how deeply infiltrated the Ishimura was, there is a definite risk of Church-members being onboard the destroyer as well." Boss replied back over the same channel, followed by a soft _ping_ that revealed Hillary to have joined the channel. The clone offered her a short, almost invisible nod; "Just to be safe, I have taken the liberty of bringing provisions along for the trip, as well as the mission itself."

"That way, we won't have to sneak into the Concord's cantina, right?" Hillary asked, again answered by a mere tip of Boss' helmet; "Good, 'cause I don't mind stealth and all, but I'd prefer not having to stalk around just to get my dinner."

"Agreed, though you might change your mind when you taste the provisions." If Boss was capable of malicious chuckles – Thomas knew clones were, after having met Sev – there was definitely one in his voice at that point; "Some months back, I gave Alliance Logistics the recipe-"

"_Lady and gentlemen, we are entering the Concord's hangar. We ask that you keep your hands to yourselves around valuable equipment, and hope your flight was enjoyable." _The pilot broke off Boss' words; "_Please leave the flight-socks, they're Spacelane property"_

"Isn't he just a cheery fella?" Hillary dead-panned, getting to her feet as the shuttle settled down on a surface, likely the floor of the hangar.

"Remember…" Boss stopped at the shuttle's still-closed door; "_Low_ profile. We're private security-forces bound for Noveria to investigate the recent activity. We are not in any way affiliated with the Alliance Military, and we do not like anyone else."

"Damn, that's a bit of a batman-attitude, isn't it?" Hillary mused, patting her sidearm. Thomas did likewise, just to make sure it was still there. Boss merely sent the woman a stare so flat, both could see it through his visor, which was actually quite the accomplishment.

Thomas just sighed, knowing that this was not going to be the same kind of 'luxury' he'd gotten used to from hitching rides on regular Alliance Vessels.

* * *

Codex Entry: Vibro Blades

A weapon once deemed outdated by military standards when barriers were introduced on a personal-protection level, the Friction-Heated Personal Close Quarters Assault Striker or as it is more commonly known the "Vibro Blade", was first deployed with military personnel in the Shanxi Conflict, where Alliance Soldiers found themselves engaged with the superior kinetic shielding of the Hierarchy Invaders. While the weapons of the time were less efficient and devastating than what the Turians could deploy, Alliance troops soon found that objects moving at a slower speed than a bullet could pass through the kinetic barriers, though regular bladed weapons had issues penetrating both the armor and plated skin of the alien soldiers.

As such, the Vibro Blade was introduced as an alternative to the standard issue combat-knife, and to great effect. Given a few seconds to warm up, the blade could cut through even the heaviest personal armor carried by Turian soldiers at the time, and was unhindered by kinetic shields, thus earning an infamous reputation from the Turians who survived an encounter with the weapon.

Issues started appearing, however, when Turian Cabals displayed biotic barriers, something that at the time had been an unknown concept to Humanity. Biotic barriers proved themselves more than a match for the blades, and when the choice was to either pour money into developing means to circumvent biotic barriers with the blades, or turning the focus onto harder-hitting rifles, the Vibro Blades were abandoned and faded somewhat into the background.

These days, the blades are usually only seen wielded by biotic soldiers, possessing the inborn skill to effectively demolish opposing barriers without weaponry.

* * *

**Heeeeeeeeey...**

**So yeah, I'm not dead, and neither is the story, in case you were wondering. *mumbles- though the fanbase seems to be mumblemulmble***

**So, I recently decided to _not_ take the easy way out, and really do make this into the two-year interlude. Doesn't mean there won't be timeskips, but we'll see Taskforce Aurora all the way to 2184-85, depending on a lot of things. In case there are things you may not recognize, such as the elements of Asatru, I'd strongly suggest going back to read the "remastered" chapters, which I'll be working on for the foreseeable future. **

**And, as you might have recognized, this "book" is heavily influenced with elements from Dead Space. Why? Because the two genres are so suited for each other, with the same overlapping genres of impending doom. **

**This might sound a little odd, though I suspect most of you know the feeling, but currently my life is sleep, eat and work on this. I'm literally working my fingers to the nubs, which I'm actually quite fine with. It means I'm doing better than the first time I started writing, particularly with the first story. **

**All I ask in return are your thoughts on my work.**

**Roku over and out :)**


	35. Gone with the Blizzard

**And we're steam-rollin' this thing once more!**

**The Tau Volantis Arch is hereby officially commenced, and we're sending our friends into a very different Hell than the one they just left.**

**Also it should be said that I am a huge fan of a certain military-genre anime. Too bad it only had 24 episodes...**

**Oh well, let's get freeing!**

* * *

August 6th

Coral system, Horsehead Nebula

Tau Volantis high-orbit, SPV Concord.

19:22

"Okay, we're tapped into the comms. We _should_ be able to hear what they're saying to each other, right about-"

"_Tau Volantis Control, this is the SPV Concord, how copy?"_

"…now." Hillary finished, turning her attention from the program to Thomas and Boss, the latter giving her an approving nod. Thomas did as well, though he was just a little surprised. Hillary didn't usually come across as the most proficient hacker, even if there hadn't technically been anyone preventing them from cracking open the comms-channel.

Still, it was impressive.

"…_Concord, this is TV Control. We're not scheduled for security-checkups until next month. Change of plans?"_

"_Aye, we're doubling patrols after the latest raid on Feros. As such, we'll remain in system for the next two hours, carrying out scans and ensuring safety-regulations are being followed, as well as discharging our drive-core on Big Demon."_

"_Copy that, Concord… Do you require assistance or repairs while in orbit?"_

"_Negative, we're running optimal. Thanks for the offer though."_

"…_Of course. Tau Volantis Control out."_

* * *

**Gone with the Blizzard**

* * *

"Okay, so they sounded friendly enough, huh?" she said, her voice eerily chipper. Thomas blinked, glad that his expression was hidden underneath the helmet's visor. He and Hillary looked almost completely alike, different only in their gear, and the two bulges on Hillary's chestplate.

"I suppose you wouldn't be able to run a front-company if you couldn't pretend to be a civilian." Boss agreed, sliding his own helmet on. It took just a second for the dulled visor to activate, and faint blue lights glowed in the corners. The shuttle was dimmed, making them stand out more than usual; "Then again, that's how the Banking Clans played it too…Eve, I've got something for you."

"For me? Oh Boss- Delta, you _shouldn't_ have!" even through the helmet's filters, Hillary sounded just as much the immature girl as she always did, though she did seem to correct her slip in call signs. Good, because Thomas didn't want his name accidentally slipped to someone while on the job.

He didn't enjoy the contingency-plans for that kind of stuff.

Boss opened a compartment in his belt, retrieving two small modules. To Thomas, they looked a lot like shield-modules, even with the curiously double-lined edges and the soft, green glow. One, he handed to Hillary, before holding the other forward at Thomas.

"You too, Demon." The clone added, remaining silent after that as they both examined the modules. Then, reaching behind his own back, he unclasped something that sounded like it came from _inside_ the armor, and retrieved his hand, showing a similar module; "As you might realize, Ghost field-tested this thing on Alchera. It's-"

"A freaking cloaking-field!" Hillary exclaimed. When Thomas looked to bump her over the head for interrupting, she had vanished from sight. Only a faintly shimmering distortion of the air next to him, as well as her voice coming from there, betrayed her location; "Oh this is _sooo_ fucking awesome! I could screw you right here and now, Delta-man!"

Thomas pointedly did_ not_ comment on that. He hadn't noticed if Hillary and Boss had started something – then again it seemed everyone bar Jane and Adrian had started something on this team – and so he decided to let _Boss_ handle how to react to Hillary's exclamation-slash-offer.

And for once, the Lieutenant seemed just as baffled as him. Weak, stuttering noises came from Boss' helmet, betraying the usually so stoic soldier's shock. And when Hillary came back into view with a snap, the clone nearly fell on his ass.

It was actually quite funny.

"R-right, I don't suppose you could just focus on the mission instead. For now, I mean." Boss groaned, his voice suddenly coming out thick as if the man was choking on something. Thomas, realizing that Hillary was just taking a piss on the poor man – at this point the clone should really have come to expect this kind of thing – turned off his voice-emitter so he could choke on his own laugher and _not_ let Boss hear it.

Yet somehow, the man seemed to do just that.

"Never mind that, let's focus on the mission now, Squad."

"…we're only three." Hillary pointed out, to which Thomas just flickered her helmet's forehead. At this point, it was more tradition than berating; "Right, right…"

"We're deploying six miles from the nearest site of suspicion, whereafter we take it on foot. The ghost-modules will allow us deeper infiltration-capabilities, and we_ can_ move with them active now. However, it does drain a significant portion of your armor's power, so use it wisely. The field _will_ break upon activation of your kinetic barriers, so don't get shot."

"As if _that's_ a new rule."

"Eve, you're the team's eyes. I want you on constant alert, covering our sectors. Your rifle should be equipped with suppressing modifications, so use that to stay undetected."

"_Sweet_, just like Cambodia."

"Demon, you'll be on point for most of the mission. Your barriers are strong enough to handle most incoming fire, and you stand a better chance at recognizing anything Reaper-related we might meet."

"Aye." Thomas nodded, giving his rifle a last-minute check as the shuttle took off. When all was deemed sufficient of readiness, he looked to Boss; "What's your role then, Sir?"

"Aside from keeping the two of you from shooting up the locals?" the man's tone implied he was only _half_ serious; "I'll be between the two of you, making sure you don't fek something up."

"…Yay, the lieutenant's _babysitting_ us, Demon."

"…Really?" the Dane looked from Hillary to Boss, unsure of what to think; "So you'll be leaving the work to us?"

"I'll be leading, don't you worry." The commando replied, checking the status of his sidearms. Carrying two just seemed so…excessive, but if the bred-to-fight commando believed it was necessary, who was Thomas to argue that? "What, did you think I'd be staying in the shuttle?"

"More like a hundred yard behind us or something…" Hillary grumbled, then shook her head; "Ah screw it. I know what you mean. Standard Tri-gun infiltration, right?"

"Correct. Now, get ready, the shuttle's invisible to most radars, but if these people really work with the Reapers, we'll probably encounter something a lot more nasty than whatever humans can think up."

"Oh, and here I was, only five days from retirement." Hillary chuckled. Her voice became the dominating sound as the men with her remained silent, instead watching through exterior cameras as the surface came closer and closer.

"Alright ladies, let's cut the chatter." Boss said, tapping into a program on his tool. Compared to Thomas, the clone had gotten used to Omnitools remarkably fast. It was almost as if the GAR had had something similar, but as far as the Service Chief knew, there were no Omnitools or anything like them in the Andromeda galaxy.

So, maybe he knew less than he'd thought? Because _that_ was a comforting thought.

"We'll hit the surface in t-minus twenty seconds, so make sure your thermal regulators are set to maintain a steady twenty-seven degrees, make sure your weapons are loaded, and your sights set to thermal. We'll be unable to maintain visual contact otherwise, as a blizzard seems to be picking up on the surface."

"Regulators, guns and sights." Thomas counted off, checking his suit's programs one by one. The HUD reported his armor to be holding at a solid twenty-six, a margin he could live with. His M37-CAR rested in his hands while he checked its ammunition-block, a type of metal that felt somewhat different from the regular tungsten-blocks. It tingled his skin when he slid it back in, causing the letters 'EPPR' to appear briefly in his HUD. Odd. Still, he would ask what exactly he was firing when he was done checking. Finally, he scrolled through the options for his vision, setting it on a temporarily low-frequency thermal. Enough that he could still see his compatriots in the normal spectrum as well.

Satisfied, he looked up at Boss, but the commando seemed to beat him to it.

"As you may have noticed, the ammunition-blocks in your rifles are not your typical tungsten-rounds." He said, allowing Hillary to examine her own before continuing with his "explanation", or whatever it was. To Thomas, it sounded more like he was giving a lecture. Which was unusual, actually; "They are considerably lighter, which is because the block is not actually a block as such, but rather a container."

"Wait…we're shooting _bullets_?" Hillary deadpanned, tilting her head as if to imply disbelief; "I thought we left that behind like, a century ago?"

"Correction, Corporal. You're not shooting bullets, but rather an experimental type of ammunition developed by the Alliance Arms Labs." Boss hoisted up his own gun as if to show it off; "As you may remember, the Admiral showcased the DC-81 Prototype back in March. This is what we're being issued now, only in a compact model. We're the first field-testers of the EPPR."

"Njord's ballsack…"

"We're finally getting _laser_ _guns_?" Hillary whooped, pulling out her ammunition; "Dang it, Bossy, why didn't you just say so when we started this shit?"

"Because A) It's extremely classified, which means no one even _knows_ the Alliance's got it yet, and B) because I knew you'd react like this and reveal it to everyone." Thomas had to agree with that one, much as he would have loved to know on forehand as well. Boss stood, slapping his gun back in place; "We're nearly at the surface. Fire only when needed, avoid drawing attention, and if we do get attention, avoid leaving witnesses."

"Gee, why don't you just make us sound like Jormungand while you're at it?" the corporal drawled, slapping the Dragunov back into place as well; "I mean, don't get me wrong, I hate leaving witnesses as much as the next guy, but we're doing an awful lot of that these days. Though that's more because we go in and kill everyone on purpose, but still."

"_Attention passengers, uh, we're detecting some sort of sensor-grid near the surface. We'll be maintaining air-lift, so you'll have to jump instead. Shuttle will set'em off if we get too close, but human-sized shouldn't trigger anything. How copy?"_

"Damn…Solid Copy, Shuttle. How close can you get us?"

"_Closest we dare's fifteen feet. Jump here or find a new LZ?"_

"No, we're going down here. Thanks for the lift Shuttle." Boss replied, sending the pilots a hand-signal – Thomas wasn't quite sure what it meant – through the fiber wall. It was doubtful the men even saw it too; "Try not to get blown out of the skies, okay?"

"_Roger that, Sir. Have fun down there." _The pilot replied, sounding slightly more optimistic than Thomas felt. Then again, the pilot was in a stealth shuttle while _they _were going down on a cold, hostile planet.

"Man, this is gonna blow."

"The High Road is hard to find, Corporal." Boss sighed through his speakers. Then, with a slight tremble, the shuttle stopped in the air, and the door slid open, revealing a harsh, unforgiving wasteland of ice, rock and snow. Boss paused at the door, looking like he was considering whether or not his armor could take the jump. It was _only_ fifteen feet, or however much that was in meters.

Then he jumped, landing with a crunch of ice only a second later;

"Surface's good. Come on."

Thomas offered Hillary the barest of nods, then leapt from the shuttle as well. The air whipped about him as he fell, and panic flooded his veins for the briefest of moments before he kicked his feet together, causing jets of flame to sprout like stalagmites from his soles and slow down his decent. _Gods, do I _love_ this thing._

He still landed on his ass, though, since he hadn't tried jumping like this before.

Hillary followed moments later, mirroring his way of descending. She did so with a lot less clumsiness, however, and landed in a perfect kneel, whereafter she simply stood, wiped her hands as if to remove dirt, an chuckled through the comms.

"You really are still the dumbass we scooped up a year ago, aren't you?"

"Careful, you're insulting your Chief's taste in men, Corporal." Thomas shot back, grinning as he got to a stand.

"Alright squad, sync up and make sure to maintain contact. No radios, so we're using helmet-comms in my personal synchronization. Unless they know Mando, no one'll crack _that_ one."

"So why no radios then?" Thomas asked as they started trudging through the foot-deep carpet of snow. The winds whipped about them, deafening all else. Honestly, this was one of those times he appreciated being isolated from the world around him. Some people said helmets were a nuisance because they hindered your vision and limited your hearing, but for Thomas his helmet just helped him not freeze his ears off. And it enabled close-range comms; "I mean, if they can't understand us anyway."

"Because, dumbass, even if they can't understand us, we don't want someone picking up on our signal out here." Hillary scoffed; "Honestly, it's been a _year_, you should know this kind of crap already."

"At least my brother didn't run out on me." Thomas snarked.

"…that was low." Hillary muttered, her voice reluctant enough that Thomas understood he'd crossed a line. Shit.

"Sorry…Didn't mean it like that."

"I know. You don't have the potential for being a bastard." The woman grumbled, sounding almost as if that irritated her more than his retort; "And he's only my half-brother. Bastard ran from his guilt, brittle-bones be damned."

"Keep that kind of chatter to the private comms." Boss cut their conversation short with a gruff reprimand; "We've got a lot of ground to cover"

"Roger that." It was funny, despite the mood, how they replied to his command in unison. It wasn't something Thomas had ever expected to do, but now that it was almost second-nature…It seemed right. Hillary might be an immature ass sometimes, but even she could be professional when it counted.

Also she hadn't deserved that one about Jeff.

Trudging through the snow was cumbersome, but at least not as bad as he'd feared. Being only light snow, it didn't really halt his advance, but it also meant he had no way of knowing what lay underneath, and considering the planet was covered with ice, there could be gaps and fissures deep down, ready to swallow the unwary.

Hours went by, and he started losing his sense of time, though the scenery wasn't all that bad, really. True, the skies were blanketed with thick, menacing clouds, and the winds would have torn his face to shreds if not for the helmet, but the endless fields of snow, broken only in the distance by looming, awesome mountains and cliffs, made it feel like he was back home, skiing in Norway or the Alps.

Maybe, after everything was done with, he could take Ashley skiing. She'd survived zero-gravity training, so skiing shouldn't be that much trouble. _Ah, but there's no way we could take a baby there, and we can't do it _before _she's -_

"…Fek." Boss hissed, breaking off the stream of thoughts Thomas was currently entertaining. The lieutenant had stopped a few meters ahead, binoculars slipped over his visor, and pointed at the horizon; "There's a serious blizzard heading our way. Our objective, as well as any available cover, is about five miles to the east, so we'd better get moving before the weather picks up." _We've only walked _one_ fucking mile? But we've been walking for _hours_!_

"How far away's the storm?" Hillary asked, taking up her own pace some ten meters to their right. She seemed to have found a raise in the terrain, and was roughly four or five meters higher up than them.

"Scans say it's ten clicks out, but with the way the wind's going we could be seeing it up close sooner than I'd like."

"Is it gonna mess with our systems?"

"Unknown… Refrain from cloaking in the blizzard, just to be sure."

"Aye to that." Hillary muttered, flicking her comms off. Thomas nodded his consent, though he was more concerned with keeping his feet from piling up snow before him. It was cold enough to only be powdery snow, but it still made things irritating when he couldn't trudge through it, or when it started getting in between his plates. Packed snow could force the servos to in his armor to work harder, draining more power than normally.

Still, it ensured the Velcro on his legs already looked indistinguishable from the terrain, meaning when the blizzard hit, they'd all become more or less invisible, and the snow would hide their heat-signatures from eventual sensors. Then, they'd be relying on infrared tagging to keep track of each other's positions.

And that was _always_ fun.

* * *

Arcturus station, Arcturus Stream

Officer's lounge, Military Headquarters.

14:22

Sometimes, it was hard for Jane to remember that the man in front of her, a man she would have followed into the depths of Hell itself, wasn't the same man she had known in her previous life. He _was_, only he wasn't, and the distinctions were so slim that they made no rational difference.

"Captain Anderson. It's good to see you again, Sir." She greeted him with that familiar, well-drilled salute she always had when she had been just a normal, respected military commander on the first Normandy. Back when Anderson had handpicked her for the ship.

Back when everything had made sense.

Anderson was Anderson. The Captain was the same ruffled veteran he'd always been, with scars from campaigns she'd never even heard of. The same campaigns, fighting the same slavers, in the same systems. Only the Skyllian Blitz had never happened, and Torfan remained a simple, prosperous colony under the Hegemony to this day.

A colony she hadn't massacred. Not this time. Never.

"Likewise, Captain Shepard." He mirrored her salute, reminding her that it wasn't strictly necessary with them both holding the same rank. God, that was weird to realize. Anderson was a legend, for Christ's sake. He was supposed to have been Humanity's first Spectre, until Saren fucked it all up. Her? She was a no-body here, an unknown intruder from another dimension.

If it hadn't been laid out flat to her by Fisher, she'd have thought she was going mad back then. Maybe she had, and she was currently twitching in a strap-jacket somewhere.

"How's leading a Taskforce been treating you?" she asked, taking a seat across from him in the lavish chair. One could say a lot about the Alliance Military, but they treated their proven officers well. Anderson, in front of her, leaned back, resting his arms on the chair's supports. Red velvet, in the colors of the Arcturus fleet.

"Been just about the weirdest assignment since I hunted slavers in the Terminus with the STG." He replied with a small, weary shake of his head; "But what's really getting on my plate is that I'm finding myself filling out more and more of Admiral Hackett's duties. These days the only thing I'm _not_ doing is commanding fleets. Hopefully, I won't ever have to."

"Don't like the chaos?" Shepard mused, waving off a waiter wanting to know her order. She felt more like a guest here than a member, really. It was all in her mind, she knew _that_, but still the feeling wouldn't go away. Anderson did likewise, but more because he looked ready to drop dead if he got even a drop of liquor.

"Oh, I don't mind _chaos_, that's not it." he huffed, a small grin spreading on his features. David had always been a good-looking guy, which made it all the more weird that the guy was still single. At least as far as she knew; "Remember, I was one of the first to oversee the Chi-program, once it became official. Aside from a full-blown invasion, it doesn't get much more chaotic than that."

"What then?"

"When you lost Alenko on the Ishimura, how did you feel?" Anderson's words made her _wince_. They felt like taking a punch to the stomach, knocking all the air from her lungs. Kaidan's death had _destroyed_ her, robbing her of one of the few friends she really felt comfortable around. Magnus, Garrus, Jon, Kaidan, everyone she got close to suffered for it; "I'm sorry, that wasn't my question to ask."

"Please, it's…I'm fine." She dragged in a heave of air; "Lieutenant Alenko's death was a blow to the entire crew. He was well-liked and respected, and most had served with him since we started the hunt for Saren."

"My point is, much as it hurts to lose a man under your command, it becomes something entirely different when you lose a thousand at once." Anderson sighed wearily, rubbing his closed eyes; "When you get to that stage, either you start viewing the death-toll as statistics, or it'll break you. I don't want anything to do with that kind of shit."

"David, there's an update for you from the armory." A young man, possibly just around the twenties, suddenly appeared next to them, handing Anderson a datapad. Jane suppressed the urge to jump in her seat, having not even seen nor heard the man approach.

And she beat herself up for that one, because he really had an unusual appearance.

Silvery hair, cut short enough to just about meet regulations formed something of a prickly bush over a pair of eerily _red_ eyes. His face spoke of Arabian origins, but his sounded more like Japanese or Korean. His entire person, even dressed up in Alliance casuals, gave off an air of constant alert, but it was when the young man looked at _her_, that Jane found herself unnerved.

The kid couldn't be more than nineteen at most, yet his eyes seemed older than Anderson's. it was disturbing, no matter how many times Jane saw the eyes of someone who's lives had been filled with more hardship and cruelty than was humanly probable to survive with your mentality and morals intact.

There was something _wrong_ with those eyes. And with their bearer.

Anderson – had the kid just called him by his first name? – took the datapad without a word, eyes not even glancing at its carrier. Seconds went by in silence, interrupted only when Anderson sighed, huffed and handed the pad back to the kid.

"Damn bureaucrats…" he scoffed, shaking his head; "Thank you, Mar. Inform the others that we've been delayed."

Instead of saying something, even saluting the Captain, "Mar" simply nodded and left, dragging an air of uncomfortableness in his wake. Or maybe that was just her being paranoid.

"So…" she started once she was certain the disturbing kid had left. Anderson waved over a waiter and ordered something strong. Neither spoke until the drink arrived, Jane simply because she assumed the man needed something after whatever he'd been reading, and thus held a respectful silence.

Once the drink was in his hand, half of its contents already down his throat, Anderson sighed and put the glass on the low table between them.

"I'm assuming you sensed something different about our visitor?" he started, looking at her over folded hands.

"That's…one way to put it. I've never seen eyes so…" she paused, looking for a diplomatic term; "…red?"

"Genetic anomaly. Mar's from Iraq, used to run with a weapons dealer until something bad happened, and I found the kid in a brig, lying about his age to join the military. That was…what, three years ago now?" Anderson didn't let his expression betray anything behind those eyes. Eyes that had seen too much, but old enough to fit their face.

"He didn't seem to be more than…nineteen?"

"…eighteen, actually." Jane didn't even have to do the math to know that was_ way_ too early to enter the military. And if Mar had been running with weapons dealers _before_ that…

"…A child soldier?" she asked in a lowered voice, almost afraid someone would think _she_ was contemplating such a concept as normal. Maybe they thought she'd finally become some sort of clone of Admiral Fisher – from the early pictures she'd seen, the old lady actually looked a lot like her when she was in her thirties – with every ounce of rumored insanity to boot; "God, Anderson, you hired…Don't tell me you're planning on using _child_ soldiers?"

"_Never_." He replied, eyes narrowing into hard lines, which almost immediately returned to normal upon speaking the word; "Mar's case is a…special one. The weapons dealer he used to run with belonged to an Earthbound organization the Alliance hasn't yet been able to track down, and as such I was given authority over the kid, most likely because Intelligence wanted to see if he knew more about the organization. When it turned out that he didn't, but instead had _very_ extensive field-experience, Command pointed Fisher at him, and you know how _she_ does things."

"…Yeah." She knew _perfectly_ well how the Admiral did things. Still, seeing as she was also the _only_ one who seemed to be successful at kicking humanity in the right direction, Jane knew the woman had the right of way on her side; "But why was he reporting to you then, and on a first name basis?"

Anderson glanced around, as if to ensure no one was listening in. in reality though, if someone _really_ wanted to listen in, nothing he now she could do would prevent that.

"Mar's one of the members of Borealis." He finally said, sounding as if he wasn't sure whether to be proud or ashamed of it; "He's one of my best soldiers, but never figured out how to approach authority. I think it comes from the informality in his…previous occupation."

'Borealis', Anderson's Taskforce. Similar to Jane's, it was split into fire teams, but she had no idea how many, or what their call-signs were, far less their real names. Anderson only knew the majority of _her_ soldiers because he'd been the Captain of half of them, if only briefly, and then enjoyed some amount of casualness when the Taskforces were still being worked out.

"I see."

"Believe me, I'd like nothing more than to have given him a normal childhood, but fact of the matter is that his shitty life gave me one of the best soldiers I've ever commanded." Anderson sighed, then drained the rest of his drink – the smell gave it away as being rum – before standing, mirrored almost instantly by Jane; "No need to get up for me, Captain. I'm just going to have a talk with Alliance Administration. You're an officer, for God's sake, _enjoy_ the few benefits that come with the rank."

"…That an order, Sir?" she longed for the days when he could order her around, back when she was just Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard, serving under Captain David Anderson on the proud ship 'SSV Normandy'.

So much of that was gone, now.

Anderson managed a surprising chuckle at her question, looking at her with a raised brow.

"You know I can't give your orders, Shepard." He did give her a smile, though; "Consider it a strong recommendation from a friend, if that makes it better."

When Anderson left, Jane remained where she had stood for several seconds before finally dumping herself back into the armchair – God it was comfy! – and waved over one of the waiters.

"Hn…I suppose it does." She mused to herself, watching the man scurry - If in a dignified manner – for her order; "At least it's free."

* * *

August 5th

Tau Volantis, Coral System

Somewhere in the Tundra.

01:42

"How _f-n_ long's _t- -orm_ gonna keep _\- -?"_

"Stay in range, Eve, you're getting static." Boss ordered, his voice the only thing Thomas could hear aside from his own ragged breath.

The blizzard had hit them faster than even Boss had been paranoid enough to suspect, and the winds were pounding them with howling gales, echoing through the dampeners of his helmet like the winds outside a thin wooden wall.

And every time it changed direction in just the slightest of degrees, it felt like a fresh kick in the ass. Boss, clad as he was in the heavier Katarn-model armor didn't have the same problems with the damn wind, but Thomas and Hillary – he assumed she was having trouble of her own – felt everything due to their armor being lighter and meant for movement and infiltration, not protection against sustained fire.

Boss had lucked out, that much was obvious.

"Aye Boss, I'm clo_-_ your po -n._ -_t. My comms' getting all messed up."

"It's getting better, at least." Thomas grumbled, eternally grateful to whoever had designed and implemented the thermal regulators. According to his armor's computer, the temperature was just below -19 degrees, but with the winds that was a chill factor strong enough to freeze the balls of a polar bear; "How far away from the target?"

"Just two more miles." Boss replied, making it sound like it was nothing.

"Oh _fuck_ _-_u!"

"Boss…you're bred for this kind of thing, and Eve's got Alliance gene-mods…Fuck, _I _don't." he panted, pumping his legs on despite the fires burning in them both. Just because one of them was a prosthesis meant to be superior to the original, it didn't make it magic. He could still feel the strain, even with the servos pitching in for all they were worth.

"We keep going, Demon." Boss replied mercilessly. Thor's ass, Thomas hated the lieutenant at that moment; "We need to reach the objective before the storm calms down. It's messing with our comms, so it'll do the same for the enemy."

"This is fucking insane…" Thomas grumbled, pushing on despite the pains. He _hated_ Tau Volantis already, and they'd only been here for some six hours. And because they couldn't leave traces to the Alliance, they hadn't brought any snow-vehicles or anything they couldn't carry on their own backs; "I _hate_ this planet."

"Get in _–_ine, dickhead." Hillary swore from her end. It was good they had comms still working and a ping of each other on the HUD, because Thomas couldn't even see Boss, whom he knew to be just six feet in front of him. The combination of a raging, howling blizzard and the absence of a moon all made for pitch-black darkness, where thermal visual didn't count for shit because the snow clung to their armor like passive camouflage; "_-_st Uni_-_ist I see gets a _-_t through the _-_t-sa_—"_

"You're breaking up, Eve."

"So_-_y, I'll _-_ve closer...How's_ -_" the woman rasped through the comms, unnerving Thomas with the way she kept breaking into static. While it spared them some of the swears she would sling around, it also meant communication was a lot harder._ I wish_ I_ was pregnant. Then I'd be sleeping in instead of wading through Antarctica on steroids._

The weather was really not improving his mood, especially with the way it was shitting on comms, and now even starting to make the radar go glitching all over the place. It reminded him a lot of how his HUD had bugged out when the Geth attacked Eden Prime.

"Boss, comms are really getting fucked."

"Tell me about it." the lieutenant replied. When a few seconds had passed, Thomas could hear the man mutter a string of curses in a language unknown to his translator; "…Eve, I'm losing your signature on the scan. Move towards my signature, we're grouping up."

Thomas realized that Boss was right. While he could still find the lieutenant on the scans, due to the proximity, Hillary's dot had moved to the far edge of the scans.

"Eve, come in." the clone repeated, now more demand than ever in his voice; "Eve, come in!"

"Hillary, come in!" Thomas barked at his comms, disregarding the use of call signs; "Corporal, report!"

"EVE! Do NOT move! We're coming towards you!" Boss now shouted at the comms, but to little effect.

Her blip was gone.

* * *

Codex entry: Phase-III Infiltration All-Purpose Stealth-Suit (IAPSS)

_Developed by Alliance Arms R&amp;D, the IAPSS is the next generation of the Phase-II armor, given to specialized combat-units for less-than official missions, often with the purpose of hitting targets in areas too fortified for regular troops to take out without sustaining too severe casualties._

_The suit's composition is so far unavailable to the public, though its appearance has been noted to range from heavily altered to basically indistinguishable from its standardized predecessor. The armor sports no colors nor insignias of any kind, often giving off the image of the wearer as a faceless killer._

_Though its capabilities remain pure speculation and rumor, it is believed that the armor features an integrated Arrest-system, hidden blades and a highly advanced capacitator, enabling its systems to operate for longer durations than the normal Phase-II's. As no Phase-III operators have ever been found dead, the myth has started to spread that the armor also contains acid-injectors meant to dissolve the armor as well as the body, so as to prevent potential hostiles from learning more about the armor than the fact that the wearer earned it._


	36. A Cold Drop

**A Cold Drop**

* * *

August 6th

Tau Volantis, Coral System

Somewhere in the Tundra.

02:17

"Oh man, what the _fuck_ do we do now?" Thomas was unable to contain himself to silence, even though he knew perfectly well that Boss was more than aware of their situation. The hurricane-like winds still slammed their bodies with every second, and moving against it felt like pushing back against a giant; "How the Hel could she just up'n fuck off like that?!"

"Fek if I know…" Boss groaned, trudging through the snow. Since Hillary's blip had vanished from the scans, and her signal had died on the comms, the lieutenant had decided to avoid all further risks by tying them together by the rappelling-line at his waist; "We need to get out of the storm, then we can get a better scan and find her!"

"The storm's been going on for fucking _hours_, Boss!"

"Then it's that many hours closer to stopping."

"I fucking hate clone-logic…" Thomas growled under his breath, not giving a shit if the lieutenant heard him. He was cold, tired, thirsty and hungry, and now Hillary had somehow disappeared on a planet owned by quite possibly the worst examples of humanity since the Third Reich was somehow considered a solid plan.

Despite their constant arguments, scuffles and what could almost amount to fights, he had come to view the irritating woman as something bordering on a sister-in-law. She certainly fostered a sister-like relationship with Ash, and Hel take him if he came back from this without the irrational blonde.

She'd most likely insist on going to this fuck-fest of a snowball herself, just to find her surviving member of Dog-squad, pregnancy or no.

The pair of armored forms continued their ceaseless, exhausted march through the blizzard, diverting most of the suits' power to simply drive the legs forward, and for the gyro's to keep them upright. As long as the wearer just leaned the right way and _thought_ about lifting his legs, the suit could do most of the work for him.

Wonders of the modern armor, and all that.

"I don't think…my armor's got much more left in it…" Thomas groaned, feeling as some of the servos were marginally slowing down. He also had to put more strain into his legs for each step, and it was tempting, oh so tempting, to simply let go and let Boss drag him through the snow. He knew, of course, that the armor had been designed with this kind of climate in mind, and that the strain on his servos was most likely just the packed snow causing trouble, but all that didn't prevent his mind from imagining simply running out of juice, ending up as a man-sized igloo in the tundra; "Do you even know where we're going?"

"Compass's still work, at least, so use that..." Boss replied, his voice tense with the strain; "If Eve's smart, she'll either keep going east, or hunker down and wait for us to find her."

"Boss, did you happen to _leave_ the Normandy before we fought at the Citadel?" Thomas shouted with as much dryness as he could muster. He couldn't feel his arms anymore; "Hillary's not your typical, _rational_ kind of soldier."

"Which is why she's going to be just fine." Boss retorted, and for the first time it almost sounded as if there was something more than just logic to his voice. Denial, if Thomas had to be extra pessimistic about it. Njord's ballsack, but this was going just about as bad as a mission _could_ go; "She survived Eden Prime, after that there's _no way_ a bit of bad weather's taking her down."

"…I really wish I had your optimism, and I'm usually the optimistic one…"

"Actually that'd be either Dwaine or Scorch…" Boss muttered in reply, sounding as if he was fumbling with his equipment. As Thomas kept on walking, suddenly the line started to slacken, and he immediately feared the worst: that Boss had cut it; "Hold up, scans are picking up something metallic up ahead…"

"…metallic?" Thomas asked, making his way up next to the lieutenant. Boss looked like a Yeti, hulking in size and covered with snow, leaving only his helmet to emit a faint glow. It was infrared, and only visible because they both used that spectrum to see anything at all in this weather; "What'd you mean?"

"Seems like the size of either a shuttle or a prefab, about…fifty meters that way." Boss pointed in the general direction of whatever exactly the scans had picked up. It spoke of the weather's brutality when technology supposed to _surpass_ the existing systems in the Katarn-armor couldn't pick something of that size up before they got that close._ We might as well have walked straight past it…_" It could be cover, and maybe Eve found it as well."

"I hope you're right…" the Service-Chief muttered, pushing the Phase-III to the limits of its capabilities. If he ever got back from this shitstorm of a mission, there would be more than one thing he'd take up with its designer.

"I didn't survive the Clone Wars because of my good looks."

"Technically that's still ongoing…" Thomas didn't even bother hiding the irritation from his voice; "And I'm fairly sure lots of Twi'leks would disagree with you, if half of what Fixer told me was true."

"Heh…Fek, he told you about that one, did he?" there was no mirth to Boss' chuckle, and it left Thomas feeling as hollow as it sounded. Yet, it was banter or the howling storm, and he'd personally prefer the banter, even if it was destined to end up awkward; "Okay…I think we're coming up on the object now…"

Thomas had to trust the man, because he couldn't see jack. The wind was still charging him straight on, and the visibility was as bad as could be. Coupled that with the time probably being night where they were on the planet, he wasn't really all that surprised he couldn't even see the clone.

"Demon, I think you'll wanna see this." Boss said as the line between them stated to slack. It meant Boss had stopped, causing Thomas to pump more energy into his legs, making use of the stims to keep moving. Gods, he wanted to sleep. Or, just sit down. Just for a moment.

"What…is it?" he grumbled between heavy breathing, making his way towards the end of the line. When Boss finally became visible, he did so along with a bus-sized shape, slowly making itself stand out from the grey nothing that was before them. Coming to a stop next to Boss, he blinked several times before realizing what he was looking at; "What…is that a Kodiak?"

"Or what remains of it…" Boss muttered; "Snow's covered most of the exposed parts, but I'm seeing signs from missile-impacts, meaning it was shot down."

"Why would the Church shoot down their own shuttles?" Thomas would have scratched his head had he retained the strength in his arms, but now just stood like a dead man; "Unless…"

"Unless it wasn't a Church shuttle." Boss finished for him, stepping into the wreck. The clone knelt in the snow and started brushing away the white powder from the interior of what had seemingly been the cabin; "Far as I've managed to dig up, the Church makes use of civilian-designed interiors in their shuttles and most of their crafts. It helps them keep up the image of charitable religion."

"And, this isn't civilian-designed?" Thomas muttered, trudging after the lieutenant into the wreck, where he positioned himself in one of the places the wall wasn't blown away, meaning he got some cover from the wind.

"Check out the floor." Boss said, directing a scan at it. illuminated by the holographic sweep, the shuttle's interior – what remained of it – appeared uncovered before Thomas' HUD; "See? No chairs, no marks from chairs, no windows, but I'm seeing remains from sensory hardware and safety-harnesses on each side of the cabin. No markings, though."

"So, not Alliance?"

"And not Mercs either. Both'd usually mark their shuttles, but this…I dunno." Boss sighed, getting to a stand again; "Judging from the amount of snow here, I'd say the crash took place…maybe seven hours ago? Could be later, if the winds changed at some point."

"And of course the Uni's wouldn't tell Spacelane Patrol about any sort of attacks or incursions that would make them send down patrols…" Thomas groaned, dumping himself on what remained of a bench inside the cabin; "Fucking…This is why I dropped organized religion. Someone always gets their hands dirty and before you know it the dead are rising again…"

"Huh…sounds like Geonosia…" the clone huffed, swatting his hands against each other; "Okay, the SpySat somewhere up there made detailed maps of most of the areas around the target. I think…Right, here we go…"

"What?"

"There's a cave-system directly east of here. Dunno how far, but it's between us and the target, so I say we head for the cave, hope we find Eve and recover there for a bit. Then we infiltrate the target, find what they're doing and if nothing's wrong, we exfiltrate and signal the Concord. She's holding near Big Demon for repairs, if you will, waiting for our call."

"Huh…well, at least we're not fucking stranded here." There was that, if nothing else. Thomas wasn't afraid of getting killed, as such, but he _was_ afraid of being left for dead on a planet run by the biggest bunch of psychopaths one could find. Hostile atmosphere, and all that; "But them, what if we _do_ find they're working on Reaper shit?"

"Termination."

"Fuck…another one of those?" the Service Chief sighed. They'd only done three CT's since the formation of Aurora, and all three had been utterly horrifying. Cleaning a base or a ship down to the last man was something you just _didn't do_ and walk away unchanged. Stalking corridors, hunting down sniveling engineers, ensigns or freelancers, all of that was something he'd never wanted to partake in. He wasn't sure whether or not he should be happy that Metal had been the team doing two of those.

The _Oravere _had been an Eclipse ship. Or, maybe they'd just hijacked it and killed the crew, once. Either way, it had been completely crewed by Eclipse mercenaries when Delta had hit them. It had all been done with so little difficulty that it had felt like an ambush waiting to happen.

Considering the amount of slaver-raids being carried out by Eclipse, no longer by Batarians - for some reason they'd gone quiet in the last few months -, the team had been tasked with taking one of the Eclipse ships for Alliance Intelligence to go through, after _Jormungand_ had had their turn, of course. Doing so had required nothing more than to ride with a freighter heading to the small, insignificant colony of Tormund's Reprieve, whereafter they'd as expected been challenged by Eclipse slavers.

When pretending to surrender, the freighter had allowed the Eclipse to dock uncontested, as well as letting most of the mercs board. That had been when Delta sprung the trap, killing the mercs one by one. Boss had been cold and professional, while Hillary had been utterly casual, as if she was merely doing a routine drill. They'd crossed the docking-tube before the Eclipse leader, an Asari matron, had managed to retract it.

She wasn't the last one to die. That had been a Salarian engineer who'd tried hiding inside an ammunition crate. The poor bastard had been crying his eyes out, begging for mercy when Hillary stuck her knife between his eyes. Thomas had looked away, knowing it was a clean death, yet still feeling sick all the same.

The Alliance didn't need intel from the crew itself, so there had been no reason to keep the mercs alive.

"-mon?... Demon?" Boss raised the volume in his speakers, snapping Thomas back to the present. Gods, did he _hate_ that mission; "…Service Chief?"

"Right, yeah…" Thomas nodded, turning his head to face the lieutenant.

"You're zoning out on me." it wasn't a question, and Boss likely knew better than to take a no for an answer at this point. However, instead of launching something of an interrogation, the clone just sighed behind his helmet; "…Don't do that in a blizzard, it's bad for you.."

"Sorry, sir. Won't happen again." He replied, getting to his feet. Boss merely huffed, sounding as close to a sardonic chuckle as the man was likely capable of uttering.

"Better not... With Eve missing, I need to know I can rely on you."

"Got it." he nodded, standing straight for emphasis. The lieutenant took it for what it was, and lead them from the wreck, past where the pilot's cabin should have been. Instead it looked as if a child had ripped playdough apart, with mangled metal jutting out in all directions. Snow couldn't settle on the sharp edges, leaving them looking like the teeth of a tundra predator; "I'm with you."

"Good. We make for the caves." Boss walked as he spoke, and the line between them soon tightened again, giving Thomas a way to drag himself in the same general direction as the lieutenant. It was clear to him, in situations like these, that Service Chief was likely the highest he was suited to go. People like Boss, Teresa and Ashley, _they_ were the stuff of real officers.

And he was content with that.

The short rest in the wreck had meant his legs had been given time to oxidize, and while it initially stung like Hel with each step, soon it became evidently easier and less painful to trudge against the wind, howling and screaming as it was.

Hours went by like this, with neither soldier saying a word besides confirming the functionality of their comms, or correcting their directions when needed. Thomas did most of the answering, not in the mood to initiate any conversations. Hillary was still gone, and if they didn't find her at the caves, he didn't know what to do.

He wasn't planning on her being left behind in this frozen shithole. If need be he wouldn't mind having to break his way through the Unitologist base to find her. In truth, he would _welcome_ a chance to strike at the cockskulls responsible for Kaidan's death.

"We're coming up on the first of the caves." Boss told him at some point. Thomas had lost track of both time and direction, and was doing his best just to keep moving and his riffle in his arms. Couldn't afford even the time it would take for it to unfold if they came under attack, and a cave was as good a place for and ambush as the planet was likely to provide; "Demon, you're on point."

"…_right_." He replied with a tired sigh. He knew how Boss was thinking this one out. His barriers were all but subconscious at this point, meaning someone shooting at him would activate them even before he could hear the shots. And unless they were biotics, he'd be fine. _And we know for a fact the Uni's don't employ aliens, so no risk of Asari Vanguards. Might still be Adepts around, though, or Sentinels._

He especially hated Sentinels, because they could flatten him in more ways than he could predict. Adepts, at least, would just be trying to warp him, while Sentinels could do anything from electrocuting him – another weakness he'd discovered in the worst way possible – to punching him in the face from a dozen yards away.

Inside, the cave was more spacious than he'd expected, and looked like it'd been made by flowing water. Every curve was smooth ice or rock, and even the ceiling had less than even the tiniest bump. Clearly, ice didn't melt very often on Tau Volantis. He swept his rifle over every surface, finger on the trigger while his gun gave off the most indistinguishable whine. It was easily mistaken for the whine of the storm outside.

"Clear front."

"Clear right, left and rear." Boss replied not a second later. Thomas lowered his gun and looked around, accessing his scans to see if he could pick up Hillary's signature… Nothing.

"I can't pick out her signal…" he groaned, turning to the lieutenant; "You got any…_what_, is that?"

Boss was currently picking up what looked suspiciously like an emptied bag of Alliance field rations. It was the old kind, before Boss had been so _kind_ as to introduce ration bars from the Grand Army of the Republic. Sure, they held the same nutrients as a full bag of sealed chicken or beef, but the taste…it wasn't eaten unless as a last resort.

"Looks like a field ration." Boss confirmed his guess; "and it's not that old. Change to thermal, the bag's still got some lingering heat."

Thomas did, and realized Boss was right. Now that he looked through the new spectrum, he realized the cave held more than one pair of dimly glowing footprints. Not enough heat to melt the ice or even make an imprint, but enough that thermal could still see it.

"Are there other fire-teams on this planet?" he asked, kneeling to check another discarded pack. _'Premium roast beef and mashed potatoes'_ was the label, and it looked like someone'd _licked_ the inside of it clean. Unless Hillary had turned Quadrupedal, this wasn't her.

"Not to my knowledge." Boss shook his head, dropping the ration-pack; "Possibly these belonged to the survivors of the shuttle-crash."

"Mercs, then?"

"It's possible…" Boss muttered, kneeling close by to look at the thermal footprints; "But not your standard mercs. Far's I know, the standard terminus equipment wouldn't survive this weather. And we'd have seen more footprints…mercs never go in just one shuttle unless they're on home turf…"

"And since they were clearly shut down, we can conclude they weren't on home turf…" Thomas slumped down the wall, ending up flat on the ground because of the perfect slope. After two more tries at sitting against the wall, he resigned to just sitting where he was instead; "Fuck it, so Hillary wasn't here."

"It's still not impossible. The footprints are too vague for me to figure out their date, so one _could _have been from her…" Boss muttered, kneeling next to him. It seemed clones didn't know how to just dump their asses on the ground; "Still, I don't think she was here. Otherwise she'd have waited for us or left some sort of obvious message…Also we didn't bring rations like these."

No. _They'd_ brought those annoying, bland bars that Boss seemed capable of munching down like a rabbit with a carrot, while the rest of them were choking on the food-shaped cardboard.

"So, we're not alone out here, then…" Thomas sighed, resting the rifle across his legs. It wasn't nearly as heavy as his old Lancer had been, which was a definite plus. It was just about the size of the old ACR, but weighed like the MP5. Score-One for material science, that was for sure.

"No, but seeing as they were clearly targeted by the defense systems around the base, I find it safe to assume we've got a common enemy." Boss nodded, his helmet's bopping the only sign that he wasn't a statue. With the way they were both covered in snow from toe to visor, Thomas supposed they could have passed for sculptures; "Let's keep an eye out, and if nothing else we can hope to avoid them."

"Right…" Thomas nodded, shifting into a kneel like Boss, rifle still resting over one knee. With protected knees and synthetic muscles between the plates, this was actually surprisingly comfortable; "So, when do we move out?"

"Two minutes. Need to let the suit's systems recharge a bit..."

"Right, that's a thing…" the Service Chief found himself nodding off, then slapped a fresh stim in and shook it off. He'd be too much out of shape if he couldn't take a single all-cycle tour, and Hillary would never let him live it down. Boss shifted the DC from his knee and lit up a holographic map between them with his tool. It showed their current position, as well as the estimated distance to the target area. _Huh…just half a mile? We can do thát, even in the storm that's just…just, ah…_ "Boss, how…many meters are in a mile?"

Had Boss' eyes not been covered by a visor, there would undoubtedly have been a flat stare to follow the exasperated groan.

"Are you seriously asking me how much a _mile_ is?"

"I grew up in Denmark, we didn't _use_ miles!" he growled straight back, feeling as if the clone was calling him stupid ;"Never mind, as long as it's less than we've already walked, I couldn't give less of a fuck."

"Thát's the spirt." Boss chuckled, smacking Thomas on the shoulder. A problem with this was that Thomas' strength was being used to counter gravity only. When the sidewards force was introduced, taking into account the frictionless floor, the result was Thomas ending up on said floor, leaving the lieutenant's hand hanging in the air; "…maybe we should take more than two-"

"No, no I'm fine. Haven't you seen people falling on their faces before?" Thomas cut him short; "Danes do it all the time, it's how we worship the gods, you know?"

Total bullshit, but the longer they waited, the more risk there was of Hillary freezing to death out there somewhere. And since the blizzard was still interfering with scans, they couldn't even send a signal to one of the satellites in the system.

"If that's how it works, who am I to question?" Boss shook his head, getting to a stand; "We're moving, if you feel ready?"

"I'm g-good." Shit, it definitely wasn't _good_ if he couldn't even get up without feeling his tendons screaming in protest. His body was screaming for rest, but his mind was screaming to get moving. Slapping a fresh stim in, he felt the adrenaline going through his systems. That two injections with such a short timespan between them was potentially a _bad_ idea, didn't even cross his mind.

Hillary was somewhere out there, alone in hostile territory, and probably freezing to death. _Or, maybe she's having a blast. Who the fuck knows with her, really?_

Actually, it wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine Hillary making life Hel for the Uni's right now. She could cloak up, was protected from thermal recognition and generally lacked the traits most people looked for in sharpshooters, such as a sense of morality. He honestly didn't think she'd blink before pulling a Full Metal Jacket on an enemy team. The question just was, if she'd stop at that.

"You sure?" Boss asked, tilting his head to the side. Thomas had learned by now that this was how clones displayed curiosity and or doubt at something. He knew it was the latter here, but didn't really care. When he wordlessly nodded, Boss mirrored him and stood; "Alright then, let's get a move on."

Outside, the blizzard had lessened, if only a little. The winds were less furious than before, but the gales still bashed their bodies like physical impacts. Thomas inwardly thanked his servos for even being able to remain standing, though Boss seemed to have little issues.

The man's heavier armor probably did all the work for him.

"This way, until we get to the cliffside…" the lieutenant gestured, now within sight though the line was stretched between them. To think _that_ was a measure of visibility. Thomas wasn't sure if it was funny or sad, but he made his way forward regardless; "The target base should be at the foot of the cliffside, meaning we'll have to climb."

"Does the armor have ice-claws?"

"Nope." Boss almost sounded happy when he spoke; "We'll do a reverse Citadel-scaling."

Thomas stopped and stared at the man, seriously contemplating if his superior had gone mad. He wanted to scale the _Citadel_? Last time, that had been a fucking disaster, not to mention without artificial gravity and under fire.

"…yay." It was all he could say, for now. But he'd damn well let Boss be first over the edge, if he had a saying in it; "What if we run into patrols on the way there?"

"We're covered in snow, just lie down and let them pass."

"I mean, what if we get _spotted_ by a patrol?"

"Well, we don't." Boss replied with a note of finality in his voice, so Thomas let it end at that. As long as they were just going to be facing Uni's, he wasn't going to shit himself over nothing. Unitologists, fanatic though they were, would still die if he shot them in the face.

What they could become, however, he didn't want to meet again.

"Got ya." He nodded, picking up the pace again. Boss was taking longer strides now than before. Did that mean he'd been exhausted too, earlier? He hadn't _said_ anything, and hadn't acted differently. But now it was like he couldn't get to the cliff fast enough. And much as he wanted to think it was just because the man had recovered, Thomas couldn't help but worry.

When they reached the cliffside, Thomas was somewhat disheartened by the fact that he couldn't see the bottom. There were lights down there, sure, but they were all so tiny and distant they might as well have been a hundred miles away. The cliffside itself was sheer and dropped almost vertically. Rocks and ice jutted from it, reminding Thomas of the old obstacle courses the Homeland Defense had put them through.

Just vertically.

"Well, _Shabuir_, I didn't think it'd be _that_ far down…" Boss grumbled as they stood on the edge. The lieutenant's words didn't exactly inspire optimism, but he decided to swallow his sense of self-preservation and trust the clone commando could come up with something; "It's too long for cables. That one's out…we can't really safely slide down the sides, either, with all those protrusions…"

The howling winds, aside from causing their motion-scans to go to Hel, also had the less than pleasant side effect of making most sounds outside their helmets almost impossible to hear. As such, neither soldier heard the ice break behind them, nor the snarls.

"Fek, fek, fek…I wonder, could we use-" Boss was abruptly cut off when something slammed into him from behind. A grey mass of broken legs and bladed arms, one of which hacked away at the lieutenant's armored head, even as they both staggered and fell over the edge; "_FEEEEEEEEE-!"_

"BOSS!" Thomas screamed, stunned to a standstill as he watched his team-leader drop. A mutated form, almost human in appearance, was clinging to the man's back. Thomas' stupor was broken when, in the next instant, a heavy form crashed into himself, causing his bright barrier to flare with scorching heat. On one hand, it stopped the bladed appendix from spearing him through the stomach.

On the other, it didn't prevent the impact from shoving him over the cliffside.

* * *

**Yes, I am in fact still alive and writing this story.**

**I know, I know, way too long a break and there really is no excuse. Well, there is, but considering the lack of popularity it's gotten, I don't think my newest project actually counts as an excuse. Still, if you'd like me to not suffer from depression, reviews are the way to go.**

**Otherwise I'll cry myself to sleep, hugging a pillow.**

**Anyway, so I'm really hoping you'll be able to spare a few minutes of your day to just jut down your thoughts on the chapter – and if you really love what I do, check out Children of Helheim too, it's a Blue Exorcist story with Norse Mythology – and for the love of whatever gods you revere…**  
**_Check out "Into the Terminus" by tmroc725._ **

**He's practically writing half of the Tau Volantis Arc, and you won't have any idea who the characters in this arc are if you don't check him out. Plus, the guy's working his ass off but people seem to think his work is weird because they can't be bothered to read us both…Well, so that was my ranting for this time.**

**Have fun**


	37. Face to Face with Evil

**Face to Face with Evil**

* * *

August 6th

Omega, Sahrabarik system

Blue Suns Compound, Checkpoint 6 of center-ward perimeter.

09:40

The Checkpoint was as standard as they came for the Blue Suns on Omega. Two rooms, where the larger was the main chamber and the smaller a kill-corridor between that and the main streets outside. The whole thing was made of metal and compressed rock from the asteroid, and all the furnishing in the world couldn't take that sensation away.

The Scorpio's crew, the ones currently off duty, were lounging around the checkpoint, most trying to get some sleep. They worked in three shifts, with one patrolling, one watching the actual checkpoint, and one getting a few hours of sleep before they cycled. Magnus was currently on the final shift, trying to fall asleep on one of the field-mattresses along the wall.

He wasn't having much luck, much as he tossed and turned, mainly because of the shitstorm currently brewing all across the compound.

Four months.

Four months, they had spent combing through what felt like hundreds of brothels, bazars, night-clubs, markets, cafés, restaurants and even a spice-shop.

Four months, where despite of all that, no trace had been found of the Ardat-Yakshi. Not a single fingerprint, no blood-samples, no witnesses and no nothing whatsoever. And in those four months, sixty-eight members of the Blue Suns had died from "spontaneous hemorrhages", "Dormant illnesses" and even a few cases of "brain cancer".

It was getting on everyone's nerves, Tara's likely more than the rest of them. Magnus couldn't help but feel like there was something he could do, and that he was supposed to know what that 'something' was. But he didn't know, and was forced to watch as Tara ran herself ragged trying to smoke out the sex-vampire with everything from male bait in the bars to putting out contracts for assassinations that could be made to look like natural causes.

Nothing.

That was four months, and sixty-eight good men and woman after they'd first started the hunt. Back then, he'd thought it'd be easy, considering he was fairly sure Morinth was the one raping their people to death.

He felt like hitting something, anything to get his aggressions out before their next patrol, but the punching-bags had a que, and punching the walls wouldn't do anything but break his knuckles. It felt like everything was completely fucked up, and if things kept going like they were, the Blood Pack and Eclipse wouldn't even have to fight them. They could just wait for Morinth to kill them all, since she only went for the Blue Suns.

He still didn't know why, and more than anything else, even more than the kill-count, that uncertainty was slowly eating away at him. It was eating away at _him_, at the _team_ and at Tara in particular. She was the one who had to report their lack of results to Commander Haruno every time a fresh kill was delivered at the door.

That was probably the most disturbing thing about what was going on. Every time troopers disappeared on patrols, they'd soon turn up at one of the checkpoints, often with mocking notes fastened to their empty bodies. And no matter how many cameras and drones, no matter how many sentries they had on watch, no one ever saw who delivered the bodies.

Morinth was toying with them, that much was clear.

"Olaffur, Sidonis." When Tara entered the checkpoint and spoke his name – reminding him that despite their relationship not really being a secret they still upheld straight faces among the crew – he knew he'd just spent his five hours not getting a single bit of sleep. Shit, the day was off to a craptastic start.

"Ma'am?" Lantar was already up. Somehow, the Turian possessed the extreme willpower to jump from his mattress at a moment's notice, no matter how comfy it might be. Magnus, despite his years of training with the Alliance military, still had some lingering laziness in him. Still, he got up within seconds of his Turian comrade's words.

"I'm up." He replied per instinct, grabbing his guns and helmet. Even as he slipped the pistol into its holster, Tara started speaking. She was in a hurry, that much was obvious.

"The two of you are with me to the main compound." She ordered, atypical from her usual method of stern encouragement. It meant something was bothering her, which really wasn't that unusual these days. Everyone on the team knew Haruno would be in deep shit when it finally came out how the men under her command had really died.

The question just was, if the outcry would be worse from the rest of the men, or command back on Zorya. For all the woman likely meant well, no way the men would just accept having been fed bullshit about their comrades for months on end. There'd be a riot.

"Yes Ma'am."

"Yep." Magnus echoed, jogging to catch up with his superior officer and lover. Keeping a hand on the holster for his Predator, he took up position on her right while Sidonis took the left; "What's the hurry?"

"Our next arms delivery is coming in." Tara replied without looking at him. She wasn't in a good mood; "The Commander's asked me to receive the arms dealers today in her place, and advised that I brought bodyguards."

"We're expecting the dealers to try something?" the Turian mused, yet Magnus didn't miss the way his right hand went to tap the stock of his shotgun. Lantar was an atypical Turian in more ways than one, being the first Turian Magnus had ever known to prefer close quarters over distant engagements. It was something with the way their eyes were positioned, far as he knew; "How many of them are there?"

"They've supplied this place since before the revolution. We're good customers, so I doubt they'd want to start trouble." She replied, nodding in return when someone saluted or greeted her from the side. Magnus recognized maybe one or two of them; "That said, the Commander was adamant I didn't show up alone."

"Right, so be ready for potential dick-swinging…" Magnus nodded, tapping his sidearm for emphasis. Tara and Sidonis both shot him odd looks, though the way Tara stumbled in one of her steps betrayed her far more embarrassed reaction; "It's ah…it's a human saying, means two sides trying to be the superior without really doing nothin'."

"…Ah. I see." Tara nodded, though her voice sounded half-choked. Lantar, meanwhile, lowered his head in what was probably resignation. Magnus could imagine his comrade's mandibles moving behind that helmet.

"I'm going to end up having to publish my paper under 'fiction'…" the Turian sighed, shaking his head; "No one's going to believe that one."

"Whatever…"

When entering the main compound, Tara steered them towards the docks. A recent modification to Omega's hull – he didn't know if Aria was actually aware they'd done it – had gotten the Suns a docking-area directly connected to their main base. Before that, they'd had to travel through neutral territory to get from the compound to the docks. Ah, what a little vandalism didn't do for the spirit.

Vandalism by Vorcha, that was. Vorcha he had back then been told to partake in the shooting off. It had been exterminating vermin, really, nothing more. Feral fuckers, all of them.

The docking area itself was behind sealable set of heavy-duty steel doors. Both could be slid together to form a neigh-impenetrable wall, and small arms would do shit to it. Unless someone took a frigate to the doors, nothing was coming through.

Past those doors, the docking area was located. It was significantly smaller than the regular docks, mainly because it was only two months since they'd finished it, and because the Suns didn't have the cash to really expand more than that. Not yet. That being said, what "piers" they had were all nearly full. Most of the occupants were Mantis-gunships or small Kestrel-frigates, with but a single Badger cargo freighter near the end.

All vessels bore clear identification of their affiliation with the Suns. All but the Badger. Instead, the letters 'HCLI' were printed on its side with large, white captions.

"I'm guessing the freighter's our goal?" Sidonis asked in a dry tone, checking his shotgun before lowering it. Magnus did the same with his Mattock, keeping it ready but relaxed. Up ahead, at the end of the pier, a small group of people were coming towards them, all humans; "And those'd be the arms dealers…"

"Yes, the HCLI's a human smuggler group, specializing in weapons." Tara explained as they stopped, allowing the dealers to come to them. Show of authority, Magnus guessed; "I don't know much about them, except that they're usually operating in small cells, and that the 'Alliance doesn't like them much."

The name 'HCLI' didn't feel familiar to him, meaning it was probably another of the differences between his old life and this. That said, he had dealt with weapons-smugglers before, and guessed they were all more or less the same. They sold weapons to whomever bought them, didn't ask questions and generally didn't give a shit if what they sold was used to massacre a village or a colony.

Yep, fond memories of hunting _those_ types.

"Right, that sounds like people we wanna know" he said with dripping irony, glancing at his boss; "While wanting the Suns to be viewed as a more legal organization, we also deal with arms dealers the Alliance doesn't like."

"We don't really have a choice." She sighed, shifting on her toes; "The people formerly supplying the Suns nearly all left us behind when we removed Santiago from power…Say what you want about him, but the bastard was a shrewd businessman."

"Things can't have been that bad." Lantar stated, turning his head to look at her as well. Tara didn't bother looking back, keeping her eyes forward.

"Until Cerberus started supplying us with armor, we were recycling hardsuits." She muttered, her posture giving nothing away; "As it is, the only weapons contractors that stayed with us were Kassa Fabrications, and because they knew that, they've been charging almost double since the revolution. We're running low on funds, and if the HCLI can deliver at a lower cost, I'm not even going to hesitate."

"Well…shit, I didn't realize we were _that_ broke." The Turian sighed; "What about the taxes from our territories?"

"Most of it goes to repairs, paychecks and medicine. The Kowloa-district's gotten some sort of disease going around, and we're hiring extra crew to sanitize the whole area. The fact that Cerberus seems to be somehow _investing_ in us by offering the armor so cheaply, is probably the most luck we've had in months."

"Alright, so, what do we do if things go bad?" Magnus asked as he eyed the approaching dealers. Apart from two women, they were all men, and clad in military-dress clothing. Armored segments were distinguishable underneath the fabric, but it was still odd for people these days to wear something other than armor, in this part of the galaxy.

Their leader was easy enough to make out, if nothing else because her business-attire matched her hair and skin-color. It was all white, with the exception of a blue tie down her front. Wearing high heels on Omega was also rare outside the strip-clubs.

"We evacuate and let security handle the situation." Tara now spoke over their comms, as the dealers were too close to risk being overheard; "if need be, we take their leader, the woman in white, as a hostage."

"Understood."

"Yep." Magnus nodded, puffing out the 'p'. Slipping a finger inside the trigger-guard, he switched off the safety on his rifle and let it rest as that. Sidonis did the same, while Tara simply remained with both hands clasped behind her back. Looking once more at the approaching dealers, most of them carrying themselves like veteran killers, he switched onto a private comms with Tara; "Anything goes wrong, get behind me before they start shooting."

The only affirmative he received was a faint nod.

As the distance between them closed, the white woman – she looked hardly older than him, perhaps younger even – wore a perpetual, somewhat youthful smile. It wasn't really befitting of someone in the arms business. The men around her seemed calm, except for the way their eyes were set. All were prepared for a fight, and Magnus right now regretted it being only him and Lantar there.

"You must be Captain Tara'Velan, am I right?" the woman greeted them with an eager, happy voice; "I was informed the Commander couldn't make it, but I'm glad to meet you nonetheless. I'm Koko Hekmatyar."

"A pleasure." Tara nodded, accepting the extended hand; "You've brought quite a few guards?"

"We don't usually operate outside Sol, so you'll have to forgive some…precautions." Hekmatyar replied sweetly; "As you might be aware. But don't worry, they're completely harmless."

Yeah. 'Harmless' wasn't the vibe Magnus was getting from the woman with the eyepatch, the big, truck-like Japanese or the cigarette-smoking American. They all reminded him of a wolf-pack, and he' already revised his opinion on them from the typical smugglers. He'd have to look up some stuff on HCLI later, when he got the chance.

"Good to know." Tara responded curtly, nodding at the team behind Hekmatyar; "Shall we?"

"Mmm, trip aside, I like having your organization as customers." The businesswoman smiled as she led the way. At the Badger, troopers were already busy unloading containers, AES-mechs hauling crates the size of cars from its cargo bay; "HCLI appreciates people who buy in bulk."

"Even people like the Blue Suns?" Tara inquired with a somewhat dubious tone.

"I know most of your suppliers left you after the revolution, if that's what you would refer to." She said, her expression not changing a bit; "But HCLI is a business, and your group consumes more wares than most of the people you'd find in Sol."

"What about the Eclipse, then. Or the Blood Pack?"

"The Eclipse never approached us, and the Blood Pack doesn't seem to like humans." Hekmatyar replied; "That said, it's not because we really mind doing business with aliens. It seems more often to be the other way around."

"Why would that be?"

"Who knows? Maybe because some people still view us as upstarts, or because the Alliance left the Citadel. So many possible reasons, so little way of knowing." Koko shrugged; "Then again, it's not like it's any of my business why people don't use us. Now, your order's a big one, so it might take a while for everything to be loaded off. Wanna inspect it?"

"I'd like that, yes." Tara replied, stepping forward so as to stand next to the white-haired woman; "Since this is our first meeting, perhaps you wouldn't mind a good first impression and offer me a tour of the wares?"

"My, my, someone's angsty." Hekmatyar giggled, yet with little mirth behind it. to Magnus it felt more like an attempt at concealing irritation when someone ordered her around. Before fully turning to Tara, she faced her men instead; "Lehm, Lutz, you stay here. The rest of you get an hour off. Go find a bar. And Valmet, do for God's sake try not to kill someone again."

That _that_ resulted in shared laughter from the bodyguards, was less than comforting. Still, Magnus hadn't ended up where he was by giving a shit if someone was more dangerous than him. In fact, he'd probably still be in the Alliance Military if he had.

The cigarette-smoking bodyguard nodded, remaining where he was while a young, European-looking blonde also stayed behind, leaning against the railing. Both carried Carbine Assault Rifles, looking like a newer variant of the old Vindicator-model. Heat-sinks were strapped across their chests in bandoliers, meaning those were probably the newer models, using disposable heatsinks for a faster rate of fire.

A fight would be a purebred shitstorm, even without that bit of technical disadvantage.

* * *

August 7th

Tau Volantis, Coral System

Location Unknown

Time Unknown.

Strain.

That was about the first sensation Thomas felt when the world slowly started returning to him. Consciousness was a bitch, and so it seemed was his memory. Following that thing shoving him over the edge, he couldn't remember anything whatsoever.

There was another sensation, however. It was in the form of lacking pressure around his body, particularly his head. When he opened his eyes, the world was too fuzzy to even attempt to make out anything but the color of the air.

It was blue, for some reason, and not seen through his visor.

It took him several painful seconds to realize that the cause of this was his helmet being gone. Along with the rest of his armor, too. instead, he had been stripped down to his under-armor suit, the body-glove like fabric tight over his chest and shoulders.

Also he couldn't move his arms, nor his legs.

"Fuck me…" he groaned, feeling a migraine press its way into his skull.

Trying to slap a stim in only resulted in agonizing electrocution, as if the very air around him was filled with wasps. His skin felt like it was being scalded, and no matter how hard he twisted or squirmed, the pain continued for several seconds. It felt like minutes, and when the pain finally ceased he was left floating, muscles twitching with remnant electricity. The fingers on his left hand wouldn't stop clenching and unclenching a fist.

"_Don't_ fucking move!"

At first, realizing he had been taken captive and was being held as such, he though the voice was of his captors. Only when he processed it, did he realize it was Hillary's.

What…the fuck was happening?

"I'm serious Thom! Don't move, we're wired up!" she repeated, her voice disturbingly hoarse.

When he did so anyway, turning his head to find her, she was hanging in the air, roughly six meters to his right. Like himself, she was stripped down to the bare minimum, the naked skin of her arms decorated with bruises. Further down what seemed to be an industrial rack of stasis-pylons, Boss had been stripped down as well, most of his head covered in dried blood.

"What…Hill-" his words were cut off by a violent cough ripping up through his throat. The whole thing felt dry as cotton, and his migraine was only getting worse for it; "W-where are we?"

"Unitologist base camp, I think…" she muttered, spat out a gob of what looked like blood, and watched as it floated in the air before her. Thomas noticed with a wince that it didn't seem to be the first. And yet, she cracked a grin at him; "Fucking A for infiltration, huh? E-end up being dragged inside the place we wanted to go…Fucking amateurs, these people…"

"Service Chief, what's your status?" Boss called from Hillary's other side. Thomas craned his neck to see the man, careful not to move his arms.

"I think my head's about to fucking crack…" he coughed again, feeling what he hoped was slime and not blood gather at the back of his mouth. Trying to taste it with his tongue led to the discovery that he was missing a tooth up front; "Missing a tooth…and my left arm's going to fuck…What happened to us?"

"I'm not really sure."

"Got jumped by the Necro's, thát's what f-fucking happened…" Hillary spat out another gob of blood. It hovered before her for just a moment, then swung back and splashed over her face; "Thought I was dead when one grabbed me from underground, then w-woke up here…"

"They…didn't just kill you?"

"Fuck if I know why, but they just dragged me here." She hissed, blood seeping from her mouth. He hoped that was simply from bleeding lips, not anything internal; "Guys, they…they were Necro's, but…looked like Husks. They're _different_."

"Indeed they are, and not just that but improved as well." A new voice entered the conversation, echoing through the room with evident pride and glee. Snapping his eyes from Hillary to the newcomer, Thomas recognized him the moment he saw him. Glasses, brown hair and wrinkled cheeks, Jacob Arthur Danik had been on more than one report from Jormungand. Every member of Aurora knew his face, and had been ordered to _incapacitate_ him at any given chance.

Now, he was sauntering into the room, dressed in a richly insulated winter coat, fur decorating the edges while the symbol of Unitology, the Marker, decorated the place above his heart, as well as his left and right arm. Red marked the sides of his coat, while ornate patterns decorated its middle. Everything about him screamed sociopathic megalomaniac.

"Oh, don't even begin to feel insulted over how easily the supposed special unit of the Alliance was captured." Danik gloated, his voice hard and unforgiving; "We knew you were coming from the moment the order was given to infiltrate my base here."

"W-wha…?" Thomas stared at the man aghast, unwilling to believe him. Danik was insinuating someone had passed information from inside the Alliance ranks. That meant the Unitologists had infiltrated _them_.

"You…lying…four-eyed son of a whore…" Hillary spat, each word sounding as if it was causing her serious physical pain; "No…N-no fucking way anyb-body'd tell you shit!"

"Do be quiet, young miss." Danik sighed, glancing at Hillary; "Know your place and when you're allowed to speak. Currently, as you might be able to observe, I am conversing with young mister Fisher, _not_ you."

"E-eat a dick!"

"As I was saying…" Danik continued, unfolding a Carnifex from his hip. He then aimed it, not breaking his glare at Thomas; "These are the improved forms of what the Markers have in store for all us faithful. For now, they follow the word of those so chosen by the Marker's prophet."

"You M-mother sucks _cock_ in-!"

When Danik fired the Carnifex, the gunshot echoed throughout the room. The metal walls reverberated with the booming sound, casting it back and forth between them. Hillary's furious rant ended, and all eyes but Danik's snapped about.

Thomas watched in horror as blood started soaking through Boss' clothes. Danik had shot the lieutenant, not Hillary, and now the two could only stare in petrified silence as the clone's right leg started splotching red. The stain started as but a spot no larger than the hole it had punctured through his bodyglove, then grew until it was as large as a hand. When the liquid had soaked the fabric, it started bubbling out as tiny red orbs.

And yet he didn't scream, nor cry aloud. Only a grimace of overwhelming pain betrayed his agony.

Hillary's scream deafened the weak groan Thomas could hardly even get past his lips. Her shrill cry tore through his ears, the ferocity and fear intermingled into such a state of emotional terror that he couldn't even fully comprehend it.

"You see, shooting _you_ wouldn't really _teach_ you to remain silent when your betters are speaking, would it?" Danik went on, waving the Carnifex as if it was a simple stick. Thomas snapped back towards the Unitologist, feeling his rage boiling over. The world started changing to green in pulsating colors, so vivid that it almost made him dizzy; "Shooting your lieutenant, however, should show you the consequences of your actions. Oh, don't worry, the wound shouldn't kill him until…Well, let's say an hour or so, give or take some minutes…so, will you keep quiet or do I need to repeat the lecture?"

Thomas both expected and feared Hillary would resume her shouts and screams, only for the response to be another bullet. Yet instead, she remained silent, and when he looked at her, the woman was quietly weeping. It was a sight so rare that at first he didn't even believe it, yet it was clear when tears started mingling with the blobs of saliva and blood floating about her.

"P-plea-please d-don't…" her difficult breathing made the words hard to understand, and each one felt like a knife in Thomas' heart. Someone had grabbed a hold of it and was clenching and ripping away at his chest.

"Will you be quiet, then?" Danik mused, his eyes falling on her shaking frame. Someone, seeing Boss shot had damaged Hillary more than any physical injury ever seemed to have really been capable of. Even when she had returned from months of coma she had seemed fine. Now, she was sobbing as she nodded in desperation and fear. Danik holstered the gun and actually _smiled_; "Good, then we can proceed."

"You…fucking…" the words were hard to get out, as he was struggling to breathe while trying to speak; "…dirty…swine of…"

"Do I need to shoot him again?" Danik asked, his voice calm as ever. Absolutely nothing in it betrayed that he had just shot a man in the leg, and was now threatening to do so again; "When I'm done talking, _then_ you can say what you wish."

There was nothing Thomas could say to that. Fear, rage and hate all swirled around inside him. Yet no matter how fiercely he attempted to burn away everything around him, to scorch Danik where he stood, not a single lick of fire would materialize. A thundering migraine was all that he achieved.

"I can only imagine the surprise you must feel, Fisher, finding your god-given flames unresponsive." The Unitologist chuckled, walking before the arranged prisoners; "You see, before you woke up, we injected you with a series of mind-dimming drugs, all specifically tailored to restraining your powers. As of right now, you're just as human as your compatriots…How does that _feel_, hmm? To know you are nothing more than the false prophet of a derelict god?"

"P-pretty awesome." Thomas spat, feeling his nerves burn with whatever was inside him. If they had really tailored it to him, that'd mean they had infiltrated Arcturus. And if they could send out information, they'd either have to smuggle it past the scanners or somehow digitally sneak it past Price; "You should t-try it."

"So you still retain some defiance yet? Funny, but you might as well resign yourselves to dying here. We will find out what we need from you, one way or the other." Danik nodded, as if confirming with himself what he had said; "When we have what we need, you will all join Convergence. An ironic twist of fate, that you heretics be granted this before so many of whom you are not even worthy of kissing their feet."

"You c-can have my spot, if- if it's so-"

"Did I say you could talk?" when the maniac drew his gun again, Thomas fell limp with fear, watching with wide eyes for Danik's next move. Instead, the man simply pointed it at Boss, smirked and holstered it again, no shots fired, before turning back to face Thomas; "You understand now? Whatever power you thought to have, whatever position you believed you held, none of that matters now. You will tell us your secrets. Every last little heretical secret. Every mission, every scrap of intelligence you ever received about us. And then, you will die."

Speech delivered, Danik smiled and turned, leaving the three of them suspended in the stasis-fields. It was only when he reached the doorway that he turned, leveling cold eyes behind glasses at them all. Thomas, still too shocked to move or speak, watched as the man rested his hands on a switch.

What was it for?

"But I am not a cruel man, on the contrary." Danik said, as if he was reassuring them of a simple fact; "the rest of your friends, the ones who will soon attempt to infiltrate so many of our sanctuaries, all of them will join you soon enough."

Then he flicked the switch, and the room fell into darkness. The only sounds yet remaining were the sobs and groans from his comrades, and the quiet, electric buzz of the stasis-pylons.

* * *

**So...yeah, this chapter was a bit on the short side, I know. **

**Nevertheless, I am planning this out and this was really the best place to end this, so please, put down the pitchforks. We'll get to the end of this eventually, and if you all burn me at the stakes I can't very well keep writing, can I? That said, I can't in retrospect see how a few organic moons, even if their surfaces were stone, could so easily take down a no-doubt space-fairing species like Humanity with a fleet of warships of their own, unless each ship also had markers on them...Never mind, just some thought-doodles. '**

**"I suppose the only fast way to kill one is to ram it with a station, but that's just getting silly"**

**Even if you thought the chapter was short, I'd still very much like to hear your thoughts on what happened in it. One reason I never start writing the next chapter before a few reviews have come in is because more often than not, you remind me of mistakes, give me good ideas or confront me on it if something happened that makes no sense whatsoever.**

**Oh yeah, and seriously, go read "Into the Terminus" otherwise the next chapter will make absolutely no sense and I'll have to explain everything in the Author's Notes and that'll probably drag out. "ItT" still hasn't had chapters 2 and 3 redone into 3rd person, so you can skip those or read them if you want. I did a bit of proof-reading on them back in the days, before we decided to make it 3rd person, but they're still quite good. And if not, just start at the Noveria-chapter. Believe you me, you'll enjoy it.**


	38. When you stare into the Abyss

Alriiiight, time for the next update!

Those of you disapproving of chapters without the main characters will likely not enjoy this chapter. Or, maybe you will because of the awesome action and political intrigues?

Who knows? Also, fans of CCP Games will probably enjoy this update more than the rest ;)

* * *

**When you stare into the Abyss,**

* * *

Tau Volantis, Coral system

Tundra, perimeter of Church Complex 102

06:01am

Tyr hit the ground rolling, allowing the packed snow to slow his fall and transit into a kneeling stance, ignoring the snow stacking up to his upper thighs. Grapping his assault rifle, he scanned the local snowscape.

Ever since being attacked half an hour earlier by those mutants - or whatever they were - he had been on edge, waiting for more of them to come out of the proverbial woodwork. It was amazing that nothing had tried to jump them while they rappelled down the shorter cliffside than the two unknowns had fallen from.

He knew they weren't Unitologists, as clearly they too had been observing the base. That meant there were others on Tau Volantis with the perhaps same goals as M-6, making them potential friendlies.

If they'd survived the fall, that was.

A few feet to his side, Valkyrie finished her descent as well, immediately turning around, rifle unfolding in her hands. She likely knew, of course, that they weren't under assault, otherwise Tyr would have alerted her to the threat. No, it was training and years of instinct that caused her to snap around, looking for targets that simply weren't there.

"You good?" she asked in a clipped tone, looking at her squad mate,

"_Hoorah_ ma'am, just fine." Tyr replied as he rose up, finger slipping away from the secondary action on his weapon. Thát one would have triggered a concussive shot, the closest one got to a nonlethal grenade-launcher. While they lacked the same explosive force, they would certainly knock a man off his feet if he didn't have kinetic barriers to protect him, and could even kill someone if their armor wasn't strong enough. "How about you?"

"Just fine... Hell of a climb though," she said as she gazed up at the cliff they'd just come down. Admittedly, she _had_ tackled worse heights before, but it had been at least a year since she had been forced to do any real climbing, and for that she was thankful. High altitudes, and the risk of falling from them, just didn't make her day.

"Yes ma'am, fuck me if it wasn't," Tyr replied as he rose up, testing his southern drawl for the reply.

Back in his time, he'd always had a natural accent because of his place of origins, southern Kentucky. But, after months in space, he felt like it had slipped away from him, especially when he was surrounded by so many people from foreign countries, not to mention colonies with their own, unique accents.

To him, these sort of vocal nuances were things that helped everyone keep a bit of individuality in the sterile space station they lived and trained on. Amazing, the things that one could end up pondering while operating on a hostile planet.

That, and how to deal with what'd happened in the cave.

As he looked off into the distance, he could see the hulking silhouette of the enemy base, towering over the local landscape. _Fucking Hell it's big…Way bigger than I thought when I wanted to come down here…Oh shit, this is going to bite me in the balls, isn't it?_

He hated to think of what laid in wait for them inside. For that matter, he had no idea how they would get to the control panels and deactivate the air defense systems forming that pesky protective circle around the installation. With it in place, there was no getting out of here.

Alex materialized beside him, catching him off guard for a moment as he startled in surprise. The entity hadn't done much to make himself known, instead preferring to hang back and observe, making appearances when he was needed only. It was pretty annoying when he hadn't even warned them of the mutants or the two non-Church soldiers that had fallen down.

Cerberus had done a good job of bugging the rooms he was in, and Tyr couldn't just disable them without raising more red flags than his simple presence. Sure, he may have been employed by the organization for some time, and he was now a fully-fledged member of one of their prized special operations units, but he still felt like they didn't trust him. Not that it bothered him too much, considering it was bloody _Cerberus_ after all.

Trust wasn't really something they were big on.

"Once inside, I will to direct you to their command and control center, where you'll be able to disable their defensive systems. Because of the building's layout, it will be a rather straightforward approach, however it will not be without resistance. There are many, in the words of the Rachni, life-songs present inside. The vast majority are sour tones, yet a few are pure…" The Aspect of War rumbled, never looking at either commando, his gaze fixated on the enemy church.

"Have I ever mentioned how it's real _fucking_ _creepy_ when he does that," Valkyrie muttered as she looked at the two, stepping forward so she could stand beside Tyr. Here, she found shelter from the icy winds next to his large, armored form. Behind her visor, her mismatched orbs were focused on them as they conversed; "Because it is. And I'm mentioning it now, again."

"At least you're useful for _something_," Tyr quipped with a small smile, ignoring what she had said to him. Surely the Aspect had heard her as well, but he didn't appear to acknowledge her. It would all be _so_ much easier if the damn deity didn't have some sort of aversion to interacting physically with anything even _potentially_ infected. But no, they had to do this the _hard_ way; "Any idea how many hostiles we're looking at?"

Crouched in the deep snow as they were, Tyr felt confident that even active scans would have trouble seeing them. Covered in snow and ice, their thermal signatures should be sufficiently concealed.

"…At least a hundred and fifty of them, however, they are not all trained soldiers by profession. Some are just non-combatant auxiliary staff, manual labors and scientists… Do not simply discount their fanaticism or ferocity because of that, though." Alexander warned them "Converts can be the most dangerous of zealots. And everyone inside is a convert. Underestimation has been the downfall of many of those who I have observed…I would prefer that you purge the area, but that is ultimately your own decision."

Tyr's lips pressed into a tight line at the news. This wasn't anywhere _near_ the good news he'd hoped for. Actually, it was pretty fucking _bad_, if one was to quote Loki on his swears.

One hundred-and-fifty people was a fair amount to handle, regardless of how good soldiers he and Valkyrie were. They had the ammo, yes, but it would require them to play this smart, or pray that a blitzkrieg would overwhelm whomever was inside. The latter seemed like it was going to have to be the preferred tactic, simply because there didn't appear to be a way to enter the facility stealthily. If they made a move for it, he didn't doubt scans like the ones that had spotted their shuttle would also spot _them_.

And then they'd be royally fucked.

"We'll just have to manage it as it comes, we can't exactly turn back." Valkyrie said, patting Tyr on the shoulder. Their backs were against the proverbial wall, and a literal cliffside, so if they wanted to get off this frozen rock, they were going to have to fight. Avoiding the bad guys wouldn't help them for long: their supplies had been destroyed in the crash, meaning it was do or die.

And fuck, if that didn't seem to have become the norm these days. Even something as innocent as a shopping-trip ended up as a fight for survival.

"…_That_ we will," Tyr sighed in agreement, gripping his assault rifle as they began to walk forward. In the distance, he could make out a small entrance to the building, probably for maintenance. The aerogel screen was red, the color stark against the white snow and grey metal. The door was locked up tight.

Well then, that was why such a thing as the Omnitool had been invented. _Well, that and downloading Shin-Akiba games…_

When they arrived at the door, Tyr stacked up against the metal wall next to it, rifle braced and ready to be used at a moment's notice, while Valkyrie got to work hacking the door. While they both had the exact same programs, she had actually done this in combat situations before, while the most experience he had when it came to hacking was with Loki during their regular training exercises. And even then he'd taken minutes to do what the slicer did in seconds.

They silently agreed that now wasn't the time for trial and error. One wrong move, and the door would no doubt trigger an alarm to the entire base.

After not even ten seconds, the aerogel emblem flickered from dark red to a more inviting green, declaring the door unlocked. Valkyrie was quick to rise up onto her feet, aiming her rifle at the still closed door. They both halfway expected for the door to fly open to reveal a team of enemy soldiers waiting for them, or worse, a horde of those mutants ready to rush them. Thankfully, nothing like that happened, as the door remained still. Tense seconds passed in silence until they both felt confident nothing was going to spring its trap at them.

"You ready to breach?" Tyr asked brusquely, looking over his shoulder for a brief moment. His superior was likewise stacked, finger resting on the trigger. Her outline was glowing with a faint purple sheen. Wisps of dark energy danced about her like smoke, impossible to see when stared straight at.

"Ready. Breach in three." Valkyrie replied with a nod, attention focused on the closed passage. She could feel her heart thumping away in her chest now, her honed combat instincts wanting to take over.

Tyr nodded and moved forward, swiping his hand over the door and caused the green reticle to begin spinning. He stepped back, watching it tersely. Another second passed before it slid open, revealing the room waiting on the other side.

"Oh son of a fuck!"

It was well lit, meaning both operatives could perfectly well see what awaited them. Several deployable barriers had been set up, and crouched behind them were armored figures, clad in Church-hardsuits and brandishing assault weapons. As he and Valkyrie dove for cover outside, using the exterior walls, he heard one of them bellow out.

"Open fire! Take them out!"

* * *

Spacelane Patrol Headquarters, Mandela system

Office of Caldari Corporations Provisions (CCP)

22:41

Tibus Heth had been called a great many things in his life. Having lived to see grandchildren put the seventy candles on his cake, he knew most peers considered him outdated, a relic. Most never voiced this, knowing that old though he may be, he still held supreme power over the lives of more than six million human beings.

And now that was doubled, with emergency power over the Turian parts of Spacelane having been granted him.

It was not something most people could get used to, and certainly not without some level of abuse or exploit when they finally realized just what kind of military capacity they wielded. Six thousand warships, that was more than any other galactic navy bar the Quarians. Of course, now with the Migrant Fleet either cannibalized on Rannoch or turned over to the Alliance Navy for repairs and overhauls, the Systems Alliance technically held the grandest naval force in the galaxy.

In numbers, that was, for he was painfully well aware of the ration between even modern Alliance warships, and just _one_ of those Reaper ships.

Personally, he didn't believe in the supernatural nonsense. He believed in what could be measured, counted, and shot at. And in that regard, he supposed he was very much like a greater part of the professional military. To him, the Reapers were nothing more than AI's, harbored in ancient, vastly superior warships.

Being simple AI's didn't make them any less a threat than had they been godlike beings, however. He hadn't gotten to where he was now by being naïve. The casualty reports spoke for themselves, and if _that_ wasn't enough, Admiral Fisher was more than keen on voicing her thoughts.

Fisher was a dangerous woman, that much he doubted anyone disregarded. Half the galaxy hated her for her actions throughout the First Contact War, and the other half worshipped her for it like a veritable goddess of war. Heth, however, was a businessman. His business was providing security for the ships passing through all corners of Alliance Space, and in that he had often found himself compared to the Peacekeeping Navies of Earth.

He'd even once considered dubbing one of his Carriers 'Queen Margrethe' after the woman on whose ideas the first Kalmar Union had been founded. It had failed, of course, as things were wont to in the Middle ages, but her legacy had become the superpower now patrolling all oceans on Earth. And much like the EFEC's wet-fleets, his warships patrolled the void, suppressing pirates, slavers and mercenaries looking for loot.

And then, those bugs had begun appearing.

At first, he'd written it off as surprisingly well-organized pirates, properly armed to take on an escort-fleet above Alchera. Soon, however, his own vessels had been attacked, and the grim reality had revealed itself as the Collectors. Highly advanced bugs from beyond the Omega 4 Relay, whose ships could take whatever punishment the Spacelane dished out, and shear his own ships in half with a single shot. Mithril-shielding be damned.

Now, he was depending on the Alliance, Fisher in particular, to get as many of his ships as possible integrated with spinal guns, just so that they would stand a chance when the next incursion took place. He knew it was beyond naïve to think every ship under his command could get what they needed, knew that some ships and their crews would face the horrors of space unprepared, under-armed and unprotected.

He knew, that relying solely on the Alliance to help him would mean the deaths of thousands, if not millions of his men.

And because of that, he had decided to take a gamble. Even with the Quarians aiding, there was but one organization aside from the Alliance and the Hierarchy that could help.

One faction, whose technological level was on par with the Alliance, and whose weapon-fabricators could give him what he needed.

And watching as the last of the massive turrets was being mounted upon its designated hardpoint, all through the comfort of vacuum-shielded glass, Tibus Heth felt for the first time in months that the price he had paid for this, was well worth it in the end.

And if it cost him his life whenever he was found out?

Well…he _was_ an old man. He had lived a long, full life, and if this small treason of his could save the lives of just one ship's crew, then he felt no regrets.

None at all.

* * *

Tau Volantis, Coral system

Church Complex 102

06:42am

"Just die al-_fucking_-ready!" Tyr shouted as he depressed the trigger, sending a hail of bullets towards the other end of the tight corridor where several church soldiers had hunkered down. Sadly, the most he managed to do was drain the shields of his target, before he was forced back into cover by return fire; "Arsehats won't die, he groused, ejecting his thermal clip and unceremoniously inserted another.

Whomever had decided that Cerberus needed to be on the forefront with disposable heat sinks was definitely not in his good books right now. The Unitologists shooting at them seemed to use the same weapon-system for the heat-dispersal, but with their numbers there was just no pause in the firing.

Frustrating for the two Cerberus commandos, this was how the last forty-five minutes or so had been spent. Resistance had been stiff ever since they'd entered the base, between the heavily equipped security teams, and the auxiliary workers more than willing to take up a weapon for the cause or even just throw themselves at him. The latter weren't the greatest of shots, and their weapons were mostly lesser grade pistols and submachine guns, but the sheer volume of fire they were capable of putting out was enough to force Tyr and Valkyrie back into cover on more than one occasion.

And even by reusing their heat sinks, his guns were starting to run low of actual ammunition. You just couldn't salvage something like that, not with the kind of gear they'd saved from the wreck.

To his left, Valkyrie knelt down next to one of the soldiers they had killed earlier, grabbed the utility-belt from his chest and yanked the pins off the small spheres strapped to it. In one sweeping motion she'd activated six anti-personnel grenades before throwing the entire belt at the entrenched opposition.

A moment later, a loud roar filled the hallway as the weapon went off violently, taking out everything in its vicinity, which happened to be mostly Church members.

"Frag out" Valkyrie muttered, her tone silent as if simply commenting upon the color of the ground. Red, slick with blood and covered in ruined armor-scraps and tungsten-grains; "Let's go."

As the two commandos stormed ahead, they found the floor littered with mangled bodies, blood soaking the floor, coating the walls. The high explosives had done their job well, apparently, and the few who managed to survive the blast were disposed of as Valkyrie put a bullet through their heads, gunning them down without visible emotion. She was executing them, and did so with cold professionalism.

Keenly, Tyr chose not to watch the show, as he moved onto the next door so that he could peer into the next corridor.

As Valkyrie slid into cover beside him a few moments later, he motioned forward. "Next room is marked for command and control, we're almost there." He reported to her, glancing back over his shoulder.

There was a neat hole in every helmet back there. A single hole in the face of any survivor from the initial blast.

"About time," she grunted, leaning against the wall for a moment to catch her breath. Tyr hadn't noticed it till now, but she was breathing heavily from the intense combat, while he barely felt little more than winded. "Here, take these." She said, offering him several thermal clips. As soon as he attached the spares to his belt, she handed him a pair of grenades.

"Mark 8 fragmentation grenades, used them in the Union. We called them 'Staal Baester' because of how much shrapnel these things put out, not to mention the explosion itself. Fifteen meter fatality zone, thirty-five meter injury zone if the baddies catch a break. Use 'em well, they may be old, but they're not even close to obsolete."

Tyr swore he could heard her grinning under her helmet as she spoke. For some reason his translator didn't pick up the name, though, leaving him wondering what the hell '_Staal Baester'_ meant.

Probably something cool.

Freshly resupplied – thanks to the dead soldiers – the duo pushed forward, Tyr leading the way. He had long since decided that if Valkyrie insisted on taking command of the mission, then he would get to take point in the close-quarter situations, and he doubted that she actually minded. He was larger than she was, in both height and in bulk, and healed at the rate a Krogan would probably envy him for.

Alchera didn't quite count. Fucking Yagh and all that.

Reaching the door, they paused as they examined it. Unlike the ones before it, there was no indication that it had power at all, the usual aerogel sensor nowhere to be found. It meant someone had either cut the power, or that it only opened from the inside. The latter was not something he considered an option, nor did it make sense because of the door's placement.

"Cut the power and switch to thermal. Gonna go loud'n dark for this one," Valkyrie said as she checked her rifle, then gave him an affirmative nod.

"…As if we're not loud already," Tyr replied with a roll of his eyes, reaching down to his utility belt. He grabbed one of the small, yet potent thermite-charges and stuck it to the door. Using his Omnitool he drew the ball of liquid explosive up along the door's frame, then across in an X-shape until the thermite was spent. Low-tech glue didn't care about polarized surfaces, something special ops training had at least covered; "Move back…Alright, blowing a hole in three, two, one, _charge_."

When detonating the charge from behind cover, Tyr watched with a little bit of fascination as the thermite burned through the steel door like firecrackers through wet paper. It was either sad or hilarious how the door was no doubt secured against hacking and biotic attacks, yet couldn't handle thermite.

Obviously, the Church didn't known much about human history, missing thermite as a threat altogether.

"Goddamn, that shit was stronger than I thought it would be." Tyr groused, getting up from cover. The door was now but a few pieces of metal jutting from the frame, with a large hole in the middle. Screw _opening_ the door, when walking through it was so much more classy; "Went straight through the damn door."

"Got the job done, let's move." Valkyrie ordered, rising up from her cover. Tyr offered her a nod, allowing her to take point. Both had rifles loaded and aimed at the door.

When they reached the scorched doorframe, they were able to peer inside for a moment safely. The room appeared to be rectangular, much like the other rooms in the base were, however this one was significantly larger than the others that they had encountered thus far. The carved pieces of the door had simply fallen off, resting on the ground like the pieces of a broken puzzle.

Oh, and there were Church soldiers as well. More surprised than anything, the Unitologists seemed to be in a daze for all but the second it took the M-6 operatives to glance about the room. Screens decorated the back, each displaying either data-streams or footage of somewhere in the facility. Tyr's eyes were on the Church members, however, as they all started returning fire.

Most were technicians, armored in what could barely be counted as an old-school hardsuit. But they were armed to the teeth, and shared the same, feral expression as the ones Tyr and Valkyrie had already disposed of.

"I'm counting ten hostiles from here, maybe more. Can't look for long enough." Tyr grunted as he looked over at Valkyrie. Leaning out, he fired off a quick burst, striking an unlucky technician in the chest. She went down with a strangled cry, her light shielding proving to be little match for his high-powered rifle and phasic rounds. "Make that nine I can see,"

"I'm going to deploy a singularity, stand by!" Valkyrie called back, then swung about the opening and flung the gravitonic anomaly inside. Instead of the telltale _whamp!_ a singularity caused, they were answered with a dry splash, like a balloon of gel being popped; "Or not. They've got a biotic in there."

"No shit." Tyr retorted, jumping from the doorway as a Warp ate the entire frame, leaving a beach ball-sized hole where he'd been; "I zap, you cap?"

"Roger that." Valkyrie nodded, pumping off shots into the room. Inside, one of the technicians had surrounded himself with a biotic field, swatting aside every slug coming at him. Considering that the man hadn't blue-shifted towards them yet, Tyr guessed the man was most likely a Sentinel, seeing how he'd never known one of those to do that.

Then again, that would mean his current plan wasn't going to work. _Fuck, only one way to find out for sure!_

"Now." Even as he spoke, Tyr leapt from cover, Omnitool raised and aimed at the biotic before them. As the man drew back his hand, every inch glowing an intense blue, the operative launched his Overload program, cutting through the man's barriers. The nodes in his neck didn't take the electrocution well, and shortened out the biotic's barrier, whereafter Valkyrie exploited the fire being poured at someone not her, swung her sidearm around the doorway and shot the man in the face.

With the biotic dead, the rest of the room was relatively easy to purge. No one surrendered, and as such neither commando asked for it.

"Room clear," Tyr declared when he rose up slowly, stepping into the room. "Got a new paintjob though," he commented grimly as he looked around at the bleak metal walls which were now painted red.

"On your six," the Icelander replied, only a step or two behind Tyr, using his larger form as a human shield. He didn't mind. Peering around the room, she sighed. They had cleared out the Church, for now, but it had not been clean by any means. Between her work as a combat doctor and a soldier, the sights of mangled bodies didn't unnerve her. She was more concerned for Tyr, who seemed to be staring. "You okay?"

Under his helmet Tyr blinked, and then looked over at her slowly to nod. "Yeah, yeah, fine. Just been a while since I've...seen so much blood." He replied in a more quiet tone than he had used earlier; "Medigel usually means the bleedin's stopped, even if the person dies, right?"

Looking over at the nearby terminals of the command and control center, which were lined along the wall like one would expect, he was glad to see that they had gone unharmed for the most part. There was blood splattered on some, but that wouldn't prohibit operation thanks to the aerogel screens. "Come, on, let's see what we can do from here. Hopefully they don't have the ability to lock us out."

Walking over the machines, he and Valkyrie quickly went to work, activating the terminals and hacking them with ease when the need arose. Or, _she_ did. He just found the ones they needed to get through.

"Apparently they weren't expecting anyone to get this deep into their base." Tyr mused as he combed through the data. Slipping in Cerberus' equivalent of a USB drive, he downloaded as much data as he could get his hands on, in case something he missed could be of use later. Drive filled to the proverbial brim with information, he pulled it out and slipped it into an armored pouch. He had barely scratched the surface of what they had stored in their database, but it would have to do; "Lot of these terminals' got shit security."

Next to him, Valkyrie had taken off her helmet so that she could read the screen without interruption. Some of her golden hair had come free from its bun, and fell down the side of her face. Her eyes seemed to glow in the orange light, and a smirk formed on her lips as Tyr looked over at her.

He didn't know if she was Anna or Valkyrie now, and therefore simply kept quiet.

"And _Boom_. AA defenses have been disabled. Radars are down too… We should be able to call in support now." She blinked for a moment as she looked at the next screen. "Njord's nut-sack...Says they've got someone in a prisoner containment area."

"Think it's those two we saw get pushed off the cliff?" Tyr asked as he looked over her shoulder. It was hard to believe that anyone could survive that fall, but with proper gear, anything could happen. In a way, _he_ was proof of that.

"I'd put some credits on it, yeah. Dunno who else would be out here other than us." She replied as she looked at the screen. The camera seemed to be malfunctioning or something, due to the image being blurry at best. She thought she could see three figures, but she couldn't tell for sure either.

"I vote we check it out, it looks like they shouldn't be too far away." Tyr replied as he eyed the map of the base that Alexander had somehow downloaded onto their omnitools. It never ceased to unnerve him how the Aspect could simultaneously be so versatile and yet useless. Crosschecking with the map displayed on the screen, he nodded in confirmation.

Valkyrie sighed and straightened her back. "Wouldn't hurt, I suppose." Her eyes widened as she trekked over to the other side of the room. "Damn, how did I _not_ notice this?" She asked, eyeing the wall. Along it, weapons of all sorts were lined up neatly, with ammunition stored below. "Looks like a nice armory they've got here…must be a security-checkpoint too."

Tyr walked over to her, eyeing the wall, as she popped up a moment later from her kneeling stance. "Hey, you want this?" She asked, holding up an M-22 Eviscerator. It was the same model he'd lost in the crash, just without the familiar gold and black symbol.

"Hell yeah!" Tyr replied quickly, grinning as he accepted it from her. The weight felt familiar in his hands, yet not quite the same either. There was a curious device on the end, likely the reason it was heavier than his old one.

"Different than your old one, yeah, with a higher caliber barrel and a smart-choke system. Won't do as much shredding, but a bigger area of effect, unless you turn that choke system on for longer range accuracy." She said, noting the mods. Technically, civilians weren't supposed to have these kinds of weapons, much less the modifications, but the Church had found a way around that, apparently. Then again, everything so far suggested the Church was mounting itself up as a paramilitary organization on par with Cerberus. Hopefully without a fleet;

"Plenty ammo too, plus heat sinks. Shame these shits were techies, or they'd have had the guns to hold us for real." Valkyrie noted, kicking one of the corpses with the tip of her boot. No reaction. The dead didn't seem to care.

As Tyr bent down and began to rummage through the clips, he attached them quickly. As his hands brushed against armor though, he froze, eyes widening a bit. There before him, sat three sets of armor that he had never seen before, as well as three powerful looking assault weapons. Despite the grizzly surroundings, he let out an appreciative whistle;

"Check this out," Tyr said as he held up the first assault rifle that he could reach. "M-37 CAR. Never seen one of these before." He commented, blinking as he saw Valkyrie's eyes widen.

"Damn! These guys were packing some serious shit, huh?" she mused, examining the rifle. To Tyr, it looked a lot like someone had pumped a Vindicator full of steroids. That, or compacted the Revenant. Either way promised a powerful gun. Valkyrie's eyes changed when she saw something else resting on one of the racks; "Fucking Helheim! A Mark 5! Gimme!" She said quickly, motioning towards a sniper rifle.

Tyr grinned widely. Whether she meant to or not, she had slipped into Anna mode, if only for a moment. That, and she wasn't tall enough to reach it herself, making her dependent on him

"Here you go," he said as he handed the rifle to her. She grabbed it like a child would a toy, and the gleeful gleam in her eyes wasn't lost on him. It was nice to see her human side, even on this frozen hellhole.

"Fuck the owners, I'm keeping this. Haven't seen one of these since we fucked the separatists in Kaliningrad" she commented, testing the weight and peering through the scope; "Damn, this is some good stuff right here. Military grade materials, not the crap you'd see with mercs."

As she toyed with the rifle, Tyr gripped a knife that was on the pile. It looked normal to him, but as he toyed with it, the weapon began to glow and hum. Startled but still gripping it, he held it away from his body, inadvertently pushing it against the table that some of the armor was sitting on. The furniture stood little chance, as the knife cut through it like a hot knife through butter.

"Careful with that, it's a Vibro-knife." Valkyrie said with an eye roll as she watched Tyr flick off the device. "Toss me that other one, never hurts to have one of these bad boys."

Nodding carefully, Tyr handed her one of the sheathed knives, before slipping the one he was holding back into its holster. After a moment of pondering, he slipped it onto his side next to the other on his hip. "Imagine if we had Loki with us," Tyr mused as he stood up. While Valkyrie had claimed the Mark five sniper rifle, he had snagged one of the M-37's. Another still rested on the racks, sharing the same lack of insignias.

"Are you kidding?" Valkyrie snorted; "He'd jizz himself if he saw this stuff."

"Right…thanks for that image." Tyr sighed, averting his eyes as if that would chase away the mental scar; "Anyway, let's get a move on. I'd rather get out of this tomb before they start mutating."

"Yeah, better not stick around." Valkyrie nodded, carefully no longer touching the bodies; "Let's go see what kind of people they keep locked up here."

* * *

**Yep, so you probably didn't expect this viewpoint, did ya?**

**If you liked it, let me tell you a little secret, one my mate and I have been musing quite a bit about, if not literally sniggering while rubbing our hands like little evil garden gnomes.**

**Aside from the segment with Tibus Heth – those who have ever played Eve Online will know who he is *inserts salute to the State* - this entire chapter was written by _tmroc_, my co-writer who is getting basically no attention for his yet awesome work. To put it into perspective when reading this, it would be like watching 'A certain magical Index' while ignoring 'Railgun' completely. What happens in his story _will_ affect events in this one, so even if I spent hours or tens of thousands of words trying to explain who Valkyrie and Tyr are, you'd have a much easier – and funnier – time just reading "Into the Terminus" But yeah, next time it'll be my own work 100% again.**

**Oh yeah, and I'm going to let the matter of Heth's treason hang in the air a bit, just to see what you people's think is going on. More fun for me that way ;)**


	39. Unwanted Reunions

**So...this chapter had me through some doubts. First of all, I was uncertain as to how well I conveyed the emotional shitstorm, as well as how the characters reacted to certain situations. I'm only human, and an amateur at that, so I know being in doubt is to be expected. Still, I'm glad that my work is still appreciated by some people.**

**I can't really say too much about this without spoiling, but I was really nervous - am, actually - about the encounter halfway through the chapter. I'm not _that_ good with surprise-turn of events, so this chapter is actually kind of an experiment for me.**

**Do let me know whether or not I botched it, will you?**

* * *

**Unwanted Reunions**

* * *

Tau Volantis, Coral system

Unitologist base, prisoner-containment

Time unknown, approximately 0.5hr past Danik's departure.

His life was going to end here.

Terrifying, and tragic as the thought was, it was one that refused to leave him. For however long it had been since Danik left, Thomas had come to the horrible realization that there was nothing he could do.

There was nothing he, Hilary or Boss could do to escape, and their lieutenant was growing paler with each time Thomas looked at him. Boss' once powerful complexion was now as pale as any Caucasian, and his expression had lost the stoicism it always seemed to hold. Meanwhile, his right leg was stained thoroughly dark, leaving not a spot above his thigh clean.

He had lost a lot of blood already.

Hillary's tears hadn't stilled, but her sobbing had. The corporal had stopped crying aloud some time ago, and was now merely hanging in her suspension, tears floating in the air around her head. Her bruises seemed to glow in the dimmed lightning, each still as dark and bloody as before.

Was this really how it was going to end for them?

Thomas felt physically sick with the realization that Ashley would give birth without him there next to her, and that their child, his _daughter_, would grow up without her father. That knowledge made him feel like throwing up.

He wanted to scream, to cry, weep and swear until his voice was spent and his throat torn open. Yet, his body refused to comply, as if the drugs had dulled more than just his powers, but his will too. Devastated as he felt, he couldn't make a single tear fall, and his voice refused to rise above a whisper.

"She asked me, you know…" Hillary muttered after what felt like an eternity of silence. Thomas slowly turned his head to look at her, trying to see if she was talking to him or Boss. Or maybe to herself. Hillary's eyes still faced the ground, as if she hadn't even spoken at all; "Ashley. She asked me to be her bridesmaid…"

Thomas couldn't find his voice. He had nothing to say, no way of finding words to answer with. When he didn't reply, Hillary chuckled, her voice raw and pained.

"Fucking imagine that, huh? Me, in a dress like…like one of those pansies?" at the last word, a fresh glob of blood was spat out, smaller than before; "Shit, I'd end up falli-falling on my face in those high heels…"

Again, he couldn't reply. He just couldn't process how to, in this situation. Hillary didn't seem to let that stop her, though.

"I mean, don't get me w-wrong, I like loo-" a bloody cough interrupted her, resulting in more blood and spittle. Her face contorted in pain for several seconds before she managed to resume speaking; "-king good, but…I can't walk in heels. Just- just can't."

"…really?" he managed to rasp the word out, and it felt like he was revolting against his own brain for doing so. The drugs, whatever they were, rewarded him with a wave of nausea and intense migraine, searing his skull like fire. It just hammered home the fact that Danik knew exactly what to use on him, that he'd known exactly how to suppress his powers.

Someone had told the Church.

Someone had betrayed them, betrayed the trust of the Alliance, his friends, family and colleagues. Someone they'd let in, or maybe someone who'd always been a part of the Chi-projects. It had to have been someone who knew about how his powers really worked, but Thomas himself knew next to nothing about the people who'd worked on studying his abilities.

And just trying to figure it out made bile rise in his throat, pressing outwards and upwards with a force that left him struggling to breathe. He wanted to vomit, to just get everything out, but nothing came but more pain. More pain, and a searing, nauseating migraine that caused the room itself to spin. Blood started gathering on his tongue, and sweat ran in droves down his forehead.

"…I guess…I mean, I always k-kinda hoped it wo-" violent fits of coughing interrupted her, spattering more blood over her lips. The blood from when he'd woken up the first time had already dried on her face, cracking and crumbling whenever she changed her expression or just tried to speak; "-would be someone…a good guy."

"…Me…too." he whispered, feeling too weak to do otherwise. He could barely comprehend everything she said, much less form longer sentences on his own. The drugs were too potent for him to do anything more.

"A-and, I think you deserve her, Thom." She chuckled with clear pain, as if her throat was lacerated; "You sti-still do. I've…g-given you a lot o-of shit, over time, but… b-but I think…"

As she trailed off, Thomas expected her to carry on. Listening to her talk reminded him of what he still had, what he lived for. But now that she had stopped, and her head slumped against her chest, he grew frightened. From talking and coughing to this, there was now not a flinch of movement from her, and only the steady trickle of tiny, red pearls from her mouth betrayed her breathing.

"She's just…unconscious, I think…" Boss rasped from where he hung, floating in his personal prison. Thomas didn't dare look at the man, fearing his face had degraded as much as his voice had; "…she's not critically injured. I think…they might have beaten her, or maybe it's from her capture…we can only hope he other teams fared better…"

"…I never got to say goodbye." Thomas choked out, feeling nausea mix with grief. When he'd left their apartment that day, he hadn't said anything or done anything out of the ordinary. Nothing he had done would serve as a 'goodbye', and yet he knew nothing ever really could; "I didn't even say anything."

"…very few people get to say goodbye." Boss sighed; "It's not part of human nature to know when we die, and then be able to accept it…Once, what feels like a lifetime ago, I knew I was born to die. I…accepted it, learned to live with it…but…I got…this. New brothers and sisters, a better life…My humanity. If I have one regret, it is that I never…that Scorch will think he betrayed us. Williams is a good woman, a good soldier…even if- if we perish here, she won't."

"I don't want to die here Boss."

"N-neither do I, Chief, but…" when the lieutenant paused, Thomas finally glanced at him, and then wished he hadn't. Boss had gone from a healthy complexion to being paler than a sheet of paper. All the blood seemed to have left his face, and perspiration coated his skin in a shimmering film; "Fek, I really wish I had some bacta right about now…"

"…Boss?"

"….Mhh?" the clone hummed, nodding slower than before. Too slowly. He was tiring, and Thomas knew what that meant.

"P-please don't close your eyes." He stammered when he tried speaking with authority; "I'm serious, _don't_-"

"…close my eyes…yeah, I know." The lieutenant grunted, almost as if he found it funny; "I'm twelve, Chief, not a damn youngling…I know I'm losing blood faster than my body can replenish it, even for a clone…But I refuse to let a single bullet send me off. It'd…just be…_insulting_, you know?"

"I'm sorry, I just didn't-"

"I know…at this point, you and I are probably even in knowing what it…feels like to…lose people we…care…about. Sev, Fixer, Vakarian, Shepard, Kaidan…we've…lost a lot of good people…over the year." Boss heaved, coughing far too weakly for Thomas' liking. Then again, right now, not much was; "I always wanted…to know…why Aquila…resented us so much…when we met…Figured though that…it wasn't something we needed to…to know."

"You…" the thoughts introduced a fresh wave of agony into his brain, feeling like it was being cooked while still in his skull. If he could just get a stim, something to clear up his system. But even then he doubted it would really solve their problems. Boss' words made him remember their first meeting, how everyone had pulled guns at each other back then; "…did point your guns at us, you know."

"…That we did." Boss nodded weakly "But…I don't think that's it. I had a feeling Scorch knew, somehow, but…"

"…do you want to know?" it was as short a question as he could ask. Any longer and the migraine would have sent him spinning again. The very act of breathing was hard enough, and feeling as if he couldn't get enough air was sending shivers of dread through his body. It was drug-induced torture, and he couldn't stop it.

"Mmhh…I don't think I'll live through this as…as we are now, so…" Boss paused, nodding his head much like he was about to fall asleep. He seemed to shake it off, if only for now, and looked ahead, staring at the wall across the room; "…I don't want to join the Force with…uncertainty in my heart…And I know you know."

"…it's…because of Order Sixty-six." Thomas breathed, trying to use what limited capacity he still had to put the words out; "You…know what it is?"

"…No." there was no lie, only confusion and exhaustion in his voice.

"It's the…reason you were all made. The war with the CIS, the Separatists…lies, all…lies." A wave of nausea punished him for speaking, curling his stomach into painful knots. Thomas lost his breath for what felt like hours, gasping for air while Boss remained silent. When it finally came to pass, the pain still lingered and the taste of acid was in his nostrils; "I'm sorry I don't…I don't know how to…"

"I understand, you…don't have to speak anymore." Boss rasped, and Thomas, despite the agony in his body and the desperation in his mind, couldn't stop himself from chuckling. It came out as weak and desperate as he felt, and sounded wrong even to his own ears; "…Fisher?"

"Us talking, it sounds…_fucking retarded_." He wheezed, trying hard to suppress the feeling of rising bile that he knew wouldn't actually make him vomit. He wasn't to be given that mercy; "We sound like…retards, and…I don't want to die sounding like a retard."

Boss didn't reply to that.

"But…but still, I think…want to…You should know what…happened. Happens….Why Teresa…hated you, back then…" there was nothing against it, really. Even if somehow he himself and Hillary escaped, he wasn't naïve enough to hope Boss would too. He'd lost too much blood already, and unless he was put in a regular stasis, the lieutenant was going to die here. And Thomas hated himself for not being able to cry at that realization; "You were all…made, with a secret command in your minds. It was… all a lie, and when…Palpatine ordered it…ordered Order Sixty-six…executed, you'd all…betray the Jedi's and kill them…even the younglings and…and the Padawans…You'd have killed them all, no matter how good friends you used to…be…People who'd saved your lives, people you might have looked upon like…like family, you just…shoot them in the back."

Boss didn't speak. For a long time, it sounded like he wasn't even breathing, and Thomas started to grow cold, fearing the clone had died of his wounds. Boss was a good man, he didn't_ deserve_ to die like this. He was a better soldier than Thomas, and even with the Order in his mind, he was also a better human being.

Boss had never been cruel, or enjoyed killing people. Thomas had been cruel, more than once, and had enjoyed doing what he'd done. When he'd mercilessly beaten the assassins to death on the Citadel, he'd enjoyed doing it. When he'd killed the guard on Pragia, he'd burned her eyes out and enjoyed doing it. He always felt sick with the realization that he didn't regret it.

"I…see." Two words that Thomas had not expected. Looking up in surprise, he saw the lieutenant's eyes closed, with only the lump on his throat moving. It looked as if Boss started trembling, while tiny beads of water rolled down his cheeks; "We…did that? Us too, I mean?"

"…I don't know."

"Perhaps…it's better this way, then…" Boss wheezed out, his voice raw, low and weak; "We…never really…were human to begin with…I think I…understand her now…"

"Y-you are!" Thomas argued, recoiling from the nausea and pain raising his voice caused him. Boss didn't react to his words, causing cold fingers of fear to grab his chest; "Boss?"

This time as well, there was no reaction. Boss simply hung in his stasis restraints, unmoving safe for the weak, almost unnoticeable dangling of his legs. His skin had turned paper-white, and his chest had stopped moving. Thomas stared, eyes wide and dilated with fear and disbelief, unwilling to believe what he saw.

"B-boss?" he could hardly breathe for fear. Once more, there was no reaction from the lieutenant, and the bile rose in his throat; "Boss? BOSS! BOSS! BOSS! BOSS! BO-!"

When he screamed again, the bile finally won, and a wave of nausea propelled his body into a retch, spewing vomit into the air. His yells cut into gurgles as the acid splashed through his throat and out, denying him air and causing his vision to nearly blacken out. Shimmers of light appeared before his eyes, blocking what little he could still see.

"Holy shit, look, they're still here…"

He only dimly realized that the lights before his eyes was actually the room's lamps being turned back on. Before, all they'd had to see was the light generated by the pylons, and only his bionic eye had seen anything. His right had just seen darkness.

"They look like hell…you think they're still alive?"

Thomas squinted against the two silhouettes emerging from the largest source of light – the door – and tried seeing what was going on. He could hear two voices, a man and a woman.

"…dunno." The woman said, accompanied by the sound of approaching boots on metal; "You three, any of you alive yet?"

Focusing his eyes was torture, and felt as if they were about to leave their sockets. Pressure built behind them as he tried looking at the arrivals, trying to see if they were Church, or could maybe be Alliance rescue.

The hope was squashed when he finally managed to focus, and saw the two newcomers, one male and one female, in sharper details. _Gods no…anything but them._

Decorating the shoulders of both soldiers, the gold and black symbol of Cerberus was adorned, greeting him like the final laugh in a cruel joke. He'd expected from the start to find Cerberus somehow involved with the Reapers, or the Church, but still…to find them actually here was devastating in ways he hadn't expected it to be.

The Church had called them. They'd called them, because Cerberus still wanted his body. He didn't doubt for a second that that was how it was. Cerberus always just took what they wanted, shitting on anyone they had to trample to get their way. And now he couldn't even fight back, Hillary was unconscious and Boss…

Boss was probably already dead.

The clone had stopped breathing, at least as far as he could see. Only the fact that he wasn't sure whether or not blood still bled from wounds of dead people gave him a small flicker of hope. It was a shitty flicker, but it was all he had. Or, it had been until now, when Cerberus was probably just going to kill his teammates and take him away. Just like on the Citadel.

"Hey, I think this guy's alive…or at least conscious." The man said, stepping closer. His voice almost sounded familiar, but with the helmets masking voices, everyone sounded the same somehow. Everything about how he looked screamed 'Cerberus', from the modified helmet, to how his hands still gripped a Phaeston, clearly stolen from the Turians; "Hey, have I… seen you before somewhere?"

Fuck it.

If Cerberus was going to take him, he wanted to at least interest them in his comrades. That way maybe they would get out of here alive, if captured.

"P-please help h-him…" the voice was not his, but instead came as a low, hoarse groan from his side. Hillary had woken up, and sounded as dead as she looked. Thomas wasn't capable of saying a word, stunned beyond them as he was; "C-Cerbe…help him…B-Boss's…"

"Holy shit, she's…" the man whispered, turning away from Thomas; "Val, we have to get them down."

"Go find the switch, then." The woman hissed; "It's an industrial stasis-pylon, I can't break through something like that."

"Got it." the man nodded, taking off. He stopped but a few steps later, looking around; "Ah…_where_ do you think it is?"

"Fuck if I know, just look for a lever or something." The obviously higher-ranked repeated, turning angled, red slits back on Hillary; "Who _are_ you people?"

"Help…Boss, you…b-bi…he's fucking…d-d-dyi…" she spat out, accompanied with the crust of blood breaking over her face. She looked horrifying, smeared in her own dried blood, even as she kept weakly tossing her head towards the lieutenant; "P-_please_!"

"Val! Found it!" the other soldier called from somewhere out of Thomas' field of vision. It sounded like somewhere behind him.

"Alright, pull 'em, I'll catch these guys." The woman 'Val' called back, flexing her arms as her form glowed blue. A biotic, then. Not that it came as a surprise, considering everything else that had already happened. Thomas just hated the idea of a Cerberus biotic, because not only did it combine the people most effective against him with the people most upset with him, it also reminded him of what Jennifer could have ended up as.

As a brainwashed soldier, a sick experiment.

When the stasis suddenly vanished around them, Thomas braced himself for impact as best he could. He could barely move his arms at this point, and doubted he could brace at all with his legs. He wasn't sure how long they'd really spent hanging like meat.

Instead of hitting the ground, a tingling sense wrapped around him, feeling like his entire body had fallen asleep, then suddenly been woken up. Slowly looking around, he saw Boss and Hillary likewise enveloped, all of them being slowly lowered towards the floor.

"Alright, I'm going to leave the big guy in a stasis." Val said, pointing at Boss; "Because he looks like he's lost a fuck-ton of blood. I'm guessing that's 'Boss', right?"

Hillary just nodded, her eyes shifting between 'Val' and the other Cerberus soldier, who was making his way back towards them. His gait suggested he didn't like being close, which suited Thomas just fine. If they were going to take him, he wanted them as separated as he could get.

"Alright, Tyr, you get those two on their feet. Was probably their armor we saw back there too. I'll see if I can stabilize the big guy."

"Right…" 'Tyr' replied, slowly approaching him and Hillary. Thomas watched him, ready to…he didn't know what. He could barely move his arms, couldn't move his legs and couldn't activate his flames. There was literally _nothing_ he could do if the approaching operative just decided to kick him in the face; "So, you the hell _are_ you guys anyway?"

Thomas didn't answer him, preferring to have spat the man in the face if he could. Cerberus had done too much to him at this point, that acting civil wasn't going to make him loathe them any less. Instead there was a helmet, so that was where the glob of bloody saliva landed.

"Son of a _fuck_!"

"What's wrong _now_?" 'Val' called, from where she was kneeling next to Boss. Thomas couldn't see what she was doing to him.

"Bastard _spat_ on me!" the soldier hissed, wiping the spittle from his visor with the back of his P-steel greave; "I swear, this is the fucking reward for bailing these guys out, I'm all for fucking leaving 'em here."

"You're an adult, Tyr, deal with it." Val retorted, not moving from Boss; "We're wearing insignias inside a Church base, did you really think we'd be getting a 'thank you' for this?"

"Wasn't expecting to get fucking _spat_ on…"

"Y-you're…not with the…" Hillary began, slowly looking between the operatives.

"- the Church?" Val cut her off; "Hardly."

"…Thank God." It was the first time in a long while Thomas had heard his teammate sigh with such intense relief, "But…then, why…are you…"

"Here?" the woman interrupted her again; "That's classified. What's important is that the Church doesn't like you three, meaning we _do_. Probably…Anyway, who the heck are you people?"

"…That's…_classified_." Hillary grinned, showing where more than one tooth had been knocked out, blood caking most of her mouth. It was a sickening look, and Thomas felt like retching again. He had only narrowly _not_ landed in the puddle he'd made before; "Boss…"

"He's lost a lot of blood." Val muttered, somehow managing to draw every eye in the room; "Pray for him, if that's your thing, but we don't have enough Medigel to fix this…"

"_Armor_." Thomas gasped, feeling the very word burn its way through his lungs. The drugs hadn't finished with him, that much was clear, and relentlessly punished him for every outspoken word. He didn't care, couldn't. Not now; "Bacta-dispensers in the…suits, somewhere."

"Bacta?" Val said, not a hint of recognition in her voice. Thomas hoped that was just the helmet; "You mean bacteria?"

"Wait…Bacta…" 'Tyr' muttered, kneeling next to Thomas; "…You mean like, that green stuff used in tanks?"

"Got it…in the armor. He's right…" Hillary croaked, nodding the best she probably could; "Find his armor, 's gotta have…it somewhere."

"What the fuck's _bacta_, if you don't mind me…never mind. Yeah we found three sets of armor not matching what the Church's using. One Bulwark and a pair of modified Phase-II's. Those yours?" Val stood, moving to roll Boss onto his back; "Tyr, get the Bulwark back here, and make it quick."

"On it." Tyr said, standing before making a beeline for the exit, swearing as he went; "Fucking hell, shouldn't have gone down here, shouldn't have gone down here…Altruism and fucking…"

"So, _you_ I have seen before." Val muttered, turning to glance down at Hillary who was propped against the pylons. Most of her bruising looked less serious now, in a normal light instead of the blue stasis, but they still looked pretty nasty. Thomas, for himself, was still just trying to process that Cerberus wasn't here to _kill_ them, or even apparently abduct them.

They were _helping_.

And because of that, he could allow himself to hope that he might see Ashley again. To him, that was worth whatever Cerberus would demand from him. He didn't care what, just that he got back home.

"Heh…b-bet you have…" Hillary wheezed, her eyes not on the other woman but on Boss. He remained pale as a sheet, but somehow, his chest had started moving again. Thomas didn't dare believe his own eyes before someone said so out loud.

"Last time I saw you…you were hanging out the side of a crashing skycar…" Val mused, her hands never leaving Boss's chest and leg. Her Omnitool was alight, but he couldn't see what she was doing; "I shot you down, on the Presidium!"

"Well…nice to see you again…_bitch_." Hillary chuckled without a shred of mirth; "I had to pay for the damages to that café out of…my own salary."

"Which means, you three are part of the Alliance!" Val exclaimed, as if she had only just realized what her own words meant; "Njord's nut-sack, you're Alliance Black Ops, that group trying to kill Ty- _Stevens_. Which means…"

Thomas didn't like the way she trailed off. The woman's helmet seemed to slide from looking at Hillary to instead stare straight at him. The red angles of her visor gave her an eerie appearance, like a demon or a classic villain.

"Fuck me sideways, front _and_ backwards, he was right, you _do_ look familiar." She gasped with what almost sounded like awe, and maybe a little glee; "Thomas fucking Fisher, Demon of the Citadel…Holy shit, you actually survived the fall?"

"Sorry to…disappoint." He glared at her, shoving himself up against the same pylon used by Hillary; "So…now you're gonna exploit this shit and kill me off."

The sentence was a question, but he said it like a statement. He didn't doubt Cerberus wanted him killed on sight, not after the damage he'd caused them back for everything. He'd more or less singlehandedly demolished Teltin, killed their assassins and gone after a suspected host for the next dark Aspect.

How moronic that apparently they should have been looking at the Church instead, all this time.

"Would love to, but the Man would skin me if I fucked with Alliance operatives on your level." She shrugged, apparently no longer interested in looking at him; "Believe it or not, Cerberus doesn't actually want to fuck over the Alliance, or the galactic community on that note either."

"Yeah." He didn't buy it; "not buying it."

"Hey, we're here for _you_ guys, aren't we?" she said; "Kinda doubt you people would come bust out Cerberus personnel, even if you were already there."

"Didn't know we were Alliance."

"True, but we could have left when we found out." She gestured at Boss, who still hadn't moved; "I could just leave this guy to die on the floor, don't doubt you'd have done that to one of us. So, could you stuff that moral bullshit up your ass? Kindly, thank you."

Thomas wanted to retort, but didn't know how. Maybe it was because he knew she was right: had he found Cerberus operatives hanging around, had the situation been switched, he wouldn't have even _considered_ saving them. At most, he would have stopped in to mock them, and then left._ That doesn't matter. They're terrorists, they already killed me once, and unleashed the shitstorm on Noveria. They abducted Jennifer from her family and used children as lab-rats!_

So instead, he just sat there, trying to figure out how to move his fingers. His left arm was still utterly useless, and his legs could barely support him as it was. If he could just get a hand on a stim, he could maybe start planning ahead, start trying to figure out what to do next.

"Boss, is he…" he tried when the silence became too oppressive. Val, or whatever her name was, hadn't even stopped working on Boss when they'd been arguing, and the realization caused his insides to twist around.

"Depends on how good that 'bacta' you're talking about really is." She grunted, while a smell like fried meat wafted through the room; "As it is, Medigel alone won't do it…the bullet was still inside, and the bone was splintered. I need an IV-drop for him, as well as a thousand other things I just don't have here…So…"

"Do you… have a stim?" Hillary groaned, rubbing flakes of dried blood from her face; "My head's killing me, and I think I have a concussion."

"A stim won't really fix that, you know…" the Cerberus medic argued, even as she rolled one of the small tubes across the floor. Small, made of duraplast and fitting within regular bandoliers, the standard stim could be the difference between life and death for a soldier. It was also a very effective painkiller.

"I know…" Hillary grabbed the stim as it ended up at her legs, groaning with relief as the needle penetrated the skin of her neck; "But _God_, if it doesn't do the trick anyway."

"I don't have anything for the concussion though, so I'd advice not moving too much…" Val muttered, turning back to Boss; "Tyr and I took out a good number of Church members on our way here. They were a lot better equipped than I'd thought."

"Probably…Templars, then…" Thomas groaned, not even bothering to act surprised when a stim rolled to a stop next to him as well. He fumbled at it, fingers refusing to properly function before managing to grab it like a child with a crayon, and jabbed it into his thigh; "Intelligence suggested the Church was starting to upgrade their military capacity…wanted to find out for sure, so…"

"So you came here." Val finished for him, waiting for him to merely nod; "Cerberus suspected the Church of secretly working with affiliates of the Reapers. That's…why _we_ came here."

"Ain't that just…fucking _A_?" Hillary croaked, even though she started seeming more awake, now that the stim was kicking in; "Because that's more or less what's happening…fuck, and here we were shitting our pants because the top dogs thought _you_ guys were plying…planning…plying around…_playing_ around with the Reapers…"

"Yeah, that'd be a concussion right there." Val muttered, then jerked as if she'd been stung; "Wait, what'd you say?"

"Danik's working with Rho." Thomas spat out, remembering how the man had bragged about just that before shooting Boss in the leg; "Rho's the Reaper responsible for the Collectors, the attack on the Normandy, the massacre on the Ishimura…he's leading the Church now, so…that's why we have to find Danik. And kill him. And then likely kill him again because nothing just stays dead."

"That's…" Val paused, looking as if she was shifting her eyes between the two of them; "not exactly comforting. But, why did you think _we_ were…?"

"Oh, no one figured out _why_ we came for that Seven…sevens…Stevens dude?" the blood-caked blonde chuckled; "Intelligence figured there was another dark aspect runnin' around or somethin', and somehow they tracked down that Steve guy."

"Stevens." Val corrected her, but sounded like she hardly cared. When she spoke again, there was far more suspicion in her voice; "what do you mean 'dark aspect'?"

"Yeah, what _do_ you mean by that?" Thomas turned his head towards the sound, and realized that the other Cerberus operative, Tyr, had returned without anyone realizing it. Or, at least _he_ hadn't heard anything. Tyr didn't wait in the entrance however, as he was hauling the massive set of Bulwark armor on his back.

"Took you fucking long enough." Val hissed at him; "I'm literally burning this guy's leg just to stop the bleeding."

"Have you tried…" he grunted, setting the armor down next to her with a massive _clank_; "…carrying one of these things lately? They're fucking heavy."

"Stop complaining, will you?" Val muttered, rummaging through the armor's back-systems; "What'd you say bacta was?"

"Some sort of healing solution, better than Medigel sometimes…I think." Tyr shrugged, then changed his stance as he looked from her to Thomas. Unprotected by armor or barriers, Thomas did his best not to flinch when the operative upholstered his sidearm and leveled it at him.

"Put the gun down, cockskull." Hillary growled, though not making a move. She was as unarmed as Thomas, and couldn't do anything regardless of whether she tried; "Bitch, tell him to put the gun down."

"Tyr, why did you decide we should save these people if you're just gonna shoot him in the face?" Val muttered without even looking up. It was almost as if she hadn't heard Hillary sling insults around.

"This guy _strangled_ me half to death, chased me across the Presidium and tried to set me _on fire_, Anna!" Tyr growled. Thomas, however, felt as if he had been slapped. The man in front of him, the one currently pointing a gun at him, was Tyler Stevens, the same bastard who'd shot Ashley with an Assault Rifle; "If I'd known _he_ was here, I'd have said we should've just bombed the place."

"You're not being very _constructive_ here, Tyr." Val grumbled, drawing out on the word; "Fucking face that we're here for the same thing, then you can murder each other _after_ we're done…Fucking Surt's ballsack, I knew something like this was bound to happen."

"You people are-"

"Saving your asses." The woman cut him off, ignoring Thomas' outburst. With all the adrenaline rushing through his systems, he was only dimly aware of the aching from his muscles. Just because his mind was clearing, didn't mean his body was recovering; "Now help me with the bacta, Tyr, since you seem to actually _know_ what it is."

Thomas wanted to say more, to somehow say something about Cerberus he hadn't already said. When he opened his mouth however, Hillary's hand clamped over it, cutting him off.

"Just shut it, Thomas, you're not helping." She muttered, not even looking at him. Instead, her eyes were on Boss as the two operatives scrambled around the workings of the Bulwark, prying open systems and compartments to get the green bio-gel out. Somehow, that was what it took for him to actually process the scene in front of him, and everything that was going on.

Cerberus had saved them.

The realization should have struck him so much sooner, and he blamed the drugs for that. His mind, clearing though it might be, was still hazed and dull, and thoughts took longer than he'd like to actually form. But now that they had, he felt shame, anger and confusion burn through him, heating his neck while sweat started rolling from his face.

"…sorry." He whispered, not yet willing to allow the Cerberus operatives to hear it. Resigning to the fact that there was nothing _he_ could do to help Boss now, Thomas instead closed his eyes and slumped his head back against the cool metal of the pylon. One of his feet had ended up in the puddle of vomit, but he found he hardly cared.

"Good, then we should try to p-plan on how to get out of here." She whispered back, leaning her head on his shoulder as if to simply rest; "I don't trust them anymore than you do, but if Boss is going to make it, we _need_ them. Nicolai's not here, so that bimbo's going to be the only apparent medic we have…try not to piss her off."

"..biotic, I know." He sighed, not moving his head, nor opening his eyes; "I just…I want to get off this planet."

"Let's take this one step at a time, okay?"

"…Your speech's getting better." He noted, somehow finding that little thing a source of encouragement.

"Yeah well…I just needed a stim." She muttered back, flicking him on the leg; "If Danik's still around, this could be the Alliance's first real chance of taking him out. I say we find him, and murder the son of a bitch with extreme prejudice."

"Hey, you two ready to go?" it was Tyr – Tyler Stevens, the asshole who'd shot at Ashley – , snapping Thomas' eyes open. Thomas looked up, seeing the operative waiting for them, a very familiar rifle held at rest in his arms; "Val's going to stay here with your teammate, but we should get going, try to find out where the hell their leader is. You mentioned Jacob Danik, right? Means he's here on the base?"

"He is…yeah." Thomas nodded, still wanting to put his fist through the other man's skull. He bit down on the deep resentment and instead got to his feet, ignoring the screaming protests from his arms and legs; "He's the one who shot Boss."

"You found his armor."

"And yours too, I guess…" Tyr nodded, shifting his grip on the gun in his hands; "Which I guess means this one belongs to one of you too?"

It was the CAR Thomas had been issued before they started the mission. He recognized the weapon now, and felt a stinging irritation at seeing it in Cerberus' hands. Taking a step forward, he put his hand on the rifle, still in the grip of Stevens;

"Yes. It's mine." He stated flatly, then bit down and felt like kicking himself; "Could I have it back, _Stevens_?"

Wordlessly, the operative handed it over, pulling the Phaeston from his back again. The Turian rifle looked equally wrong in the hands of a Cerberus operative, but Thomas had no argument beyond that, and didn't comment. Nodding while glaring at the space above Stevens' visor, he motioned for the man to lead them.

Thomas hadn't actually seen anything of the base outside the containment room, and was surprised to see it resembling any regular industrial complex. He'd expected Unitologist symbols decorating every inch of the walls, all somehow made in the shape of a Marker. Instead, the walls were plain, gun-metal grey while the floor shifted between grates and concrete.

"Listen, I don't work well if I have to worry about someone putting a bullet in my spine…" Stevens muttered awkwardly as they walked, Thomas finding himself unconsciously aiming his rifle at the other man's leg, finger on the trigger. He didn't point the gun away, but he did remove the finger from the trigger-guard. Did the man have eyes on the back of his head? "So…if we could just declare a truce or something until we're done here…?"

"You broke my superior's nose, shot my fiancé with an Assault rifle, then kicked me in the head, shot me multiple times and threw me out of a speeding car."

"Oh…_fuck_, she's your…" Stevens groaned, slapping a hand to his visor; "Look, I was panicking and you all came at me with guns. I just wanted to buy some stuff and all of a sudden you all just…She…she survived, right? Williams?"

For almost two seconds, Thomas wondered why he found that question odder than frustrating. When he finally realized the reason, it struck him hard enough that he couldn't voice his question before Hillary did the same.

"How'd you know her name?" she demanded sharply, striding past Thomas to stare Stevens in the visor; "No one here's told you her name."

"I…I…recognized her from a magazine." Stevens muttered, doing nothing but increasing Thomas' distrust of him; "Look, does it matter how I know-"

"Yes, yes it does matter." Hillary scowled; "But for now it can wait. We get our guns, find Danik and then we kill him till he dies. How does that sound for a plan?"

"…I'm fine with it." Stevens nodded, then seemed to stop himself from looking at Thomas; "Are…ehm…are you good with-"

"Let's just get it done." He growled, glaring at the back of Steven's helmet; "but don't try anything, or I'll fucking murder you."

"…I swear, there's just no pleasing some people…" Stevens muttered under his breath. Thomas ignored him, determined to see through the mission, and then go home. If Stevens escaped this place alive, he should consider it all the gratitude he was going to get.

Because there was no way in Helheim's icy plains Thomas was going to thank him. Ever. No matter how good a reason he'd had for doing it, Stevens had shot Ashley. That she had survived was the only reason Stevens wasn't dead already, and the only reason Thomas wasn't shooting him in the spine.

And there was still the question of how Stevens knew her name.

There were a lot of possibilities and scenarios going through his head as for that, and Thomas liked absolutely none of them.

Because different through they all were, there was one thing they all shared. One nasty implication they all had in common.

Somehow, at some point, Stevens had gotten close enough to her to learn her name. Ashley had never been on magazines – he'd checked, once – and aside from Jilani's one coverage of their night out, her face had never even been publically broadcasted.

Had Stevens been on Eden Prime?

It was either that, or Cerberus spies in Aurora. And Thomas didn't believe Jane careless enough for something like that to be leaked. She was far too paranoid for that after Kaidan's death, and even if she hadn't been, Anna was in control of the Taskforces. Jormungand would have sniffed out any spies and reported them to her.

And since Anna would never betray them to Cerberus, and nothing could get past her and Price – he hoped and prayed this was the case – only the first option remained.

And yet, it left him exactly where he started.

And he hated being unable to do shit about it.

* * *

**So...I wasn't actually sure where to end the chapter, so I decided to cut it at Thomas trying to figure out where Stevens actually knows Ashley from. If you've read 'Into the Terminus' you already know, but if not...well, we'll probably get to that sometime in the future.**

**If you're wondering why the updates have suddenly slowed down, it's because I started attending VUC recently - Adult Education Course...roughly - and the workload is slightly larger than I had expected.**

**Also, after this chapter I'll be doing another of either Talia or Helheim, as well as finishing the next chapter-rewrite from the first book. So, it might be a while before the next update.**


	40. Foreign Relations

**Alright, so my cycle seems to be working so far. The last chapter of Talia got great attention – far more than I'm used to – so that gave me far more incentive to get my school-work squared off – even though it meant working straight for **_**nine hours**_** with math(**_**not**__**funny**_**) – and thus I had the time to piece this thing together by grabbing every chance I had at writing. Everything from sitting on the bus, breaks in school and especially the 1 hour break I have when I've been riding and waiting for my mom's team to also be done so I can drive us home. **

**Driving a car in riding boots = **_**More 'not funny'**_**. Seriously, it feels like I don't even touch the damn gas and suddenly the car just goes full DeLorean minus the time-travel, while I'm stuck at the wheel, screaming like a little girl…Okay, so the part about me screaming isn't true. I just swear a lot and tell the car – which also contains my somewhat distressed mother – 'chill, chill, Hakuna Matata, chill, chill, I've got this!' until the car's back under legal speeds.**

_**Aaaaaaaaanyway**_**, this chapter was rewritten quite a few times, mainly because I as a person do not really know how to carry a grudge. As Sid would say it "You know me, I'm too lazy to carry a grudge", which is also why Sid is the one I identify with the most in Ice Age. Plus he's the smartest one in the movies, considering he made fire. Okay, going off track again. **

**Thomas and Stevens' interaction is more or less how I **_**imagine **_**two people who do not like each other would behave around said one-another. This is probably the only lack of personal experience I am **_**not**_** sad to…well, to **_**lack**_**. That and recovering from having your leg blown off. If you read the Remastered, you'll know what I mean.**

**Damn though…looking back on it, it really does seem like I love tearing people's arms and legs off…Maybe I should get a role in the next reenactment of 'Braveheart'? **

* * *

**Foreign Relations**

* * *

Tau Volantis, Coral System

Unitologist base, corridors.

18:26

"How do we deal with these guys?" Stevens snarled, leaning into cover behind a support-strut as the Templars down the hallway shifted fire towards him. They fired in complete unity, meaning that while it _did_ leave the operative scrambling for cover, it allowed Thomas and Hillary to lean out and dish it back; "And how did they get those barriers? That's _our_ designs!"

It just so happened to suck that the Unitologists could hide behind deployable barriers. There was an irony there that Thomas would have otherwise enjoyed, had the technology not been used to block bullets. Apparently even the prototype rounds from the CAR could penetrate the damn things.

"Just goes to show how trustworthy your organization is." He didn't even bother biting down on the venom in his words.

"I thought those drug in you worked only because someone in the _Alliance_ sold you out?"

"Go fuck yourself." Yet as much as he hated it, Thomas knew Stevens was at least correct on that one. The fact remained that someone in the Alliance had somehow smuggled data to the Church on how to more or less neutralize him; "Hill?"

"I _thinking_, okay?" the corporal growled, leaning from cover to squeeze off a high-powered slug from the Dragunov. It smashed against one of the barriers, sending ripples through the hexagonal shields but not much else. The Templar closest to the point of impact turned towards her, bringing an oversized Revenant to bear. The torrent of slugs forced her back into cover; "Either of you happen to have a Cain?"

"Do I _look_ like I have a Cain?" Thomas snapped. The stress was getting to him, more than it already had been when he was floating in a stasis. Danik was somewhere on this base, maybe making his escape since there was no way in Muspelheim's fiery pits that man didn't know they'd escaped.

"Okay…Okay, I think I have an idea then."

"I'm ears." Stevens called, taking advantage of the shift in fire to vent his Phaeston towards the emplacement. Really, it wasn't even anything fancier than a set of deployable barriers set up around a check-point at the crossing of two corridors, reinforced with a portable turret – one of those capable of being carried around like a freaking _backpack_ – and half a dozen Templars in rip-off Bulwark armor; "Because clearly this _isn't _working."

"Thom, I need one of your ammo-clips, the ones we got from Boss' armor." Hillary called, even as the turret seemed to focus primarily on her, and her alone. The only times it stopped firing at her cover was when it was forced to vent heat. The support-strut keeping the corporal alive looked very much like Swiss cheese already. Wordlessly, he obliged and tossed her one of the clips for Boss's DC-15; "Alright, so I have _no_ idea if this is actually going to work…"

"…_Hill?_" Thomas wasn't sure he liked her actually _admitting _to that. It was like saying you didn't know if the grenade would go off the second you pulled the pin.

"Hey, I_ improvise_, okay?" she retorted, unsheathing and activating her blade in one fluid motion. Thomas then watched her with a snap of horror as she _carved_ into the canister of contained, ionized gas. Gas that, if he understood the science behind it correctly, _needed_ that containment in order not to kill whomever carried it around; "Alright, you may wanna cover your eyes."

Thomas didn't. Instead, having something of an idea of what was going through her head, he lowered the brightness of his visor's sensory input by enough that he could barely see his own feet. Timely too, as she threw the leaking clip in that same instant. While he couldn't _see_ the small object sailing through the air, he didn't particularly mind.

Especially because, when it landed and came into contact with something of a remotely higher temperature than the air around it, in this case as it bumped against the barrier, what was essentially compressed plasma-in-the-making became _actual_ plasma, and flash-boiled everything in a radius of ten feet.

The temperature was so high, and the field of its detonation so concentrated, that when the plasma dissipated into the air, it left behind a vaguely spherical hole in the checkpoint. Half the Templars were gone altogether, while those who yet remained physical weren't exactly _intact._

"Jesus on _stilts_…" Stevens breathed, moving from cover to better view the aftermath. Only two Templars had survived the plasma-blast. One was now a pair of legs shorter, the other lacking his right arm. They both received the mercy of a slug through the foreheads. Neither tried to surrender, and nor were they asked as Thomas drove his Vibro-blade through one's visor, while Hillary did the same on the crawling torso; "What the _fuck _was that?"

"Me." she grinned through her voice-filter; "_Innovating_."

"…and here I though _Val_ was scary."

"I'll take that as a compliment." The corporal offered a mock-bow, to which Thomas frowned. Mainly it was because Hillary didn't seem to despise Stevens at all. Had she _forgotten _what Cerberus was doing? _Then again…she's been asleep for a long time. _

"I…don't think a compliment from a terrorist organization is a good thing, Hill…"

"It's a compliment from the person who saved our asses, Thom." She gave him a stare so flat that he could see it through the polarized visor. Gods, was she taking _their_ side now? "'Sides, he said he was sorry about Ashley."

"He _shot_ her."

"And then you punched him across the sidewalk."

"Hey, listen-" Stevens offered meekly.

"Because he broke Jane's nose!"

"And then you chased him down and nearly killed him. Again."

"I'm still-"

"He_ kicked _me in the face."

"Maybe that was because you threatened to burn his innards?" Hillary offered casually; "I _was_ on comms, you know?"

"Look-" the operative tried again, only to be ignored.

"Then he _shot _me six times and kicked me out of a speeding car."

"Wasn't that kind of in self-defense too?" the corporal offered with a shrug as she rummaged the ammunition from the dead Templars; "Honestly, Thom. It's done with, Ashley is fine and nobody died. So just, you know, stop being such a prat about it, m'kay?"

"…you…_are_ taking his side in this." He muttered, aghast and slightly more pissed off; "Gods…"

"Hey, can I just-"

"_WHAT_?" When he couldn't yell at Hillary, the only other outlet for Thomas' mounting stress and frustration was found in Stevens. Despite being significantly bulkier, the Cerberus operative still seemed to wince at the anger in his voice; "What do you _possibly_ have to say that can excuse you opening fire on my fiancé, whom, if I might add, is currently five months pregnant?"

"Thom, for _fuck's_ sake, we're done with that already!" Hillary hissed, grabbing his arm. He shook her off, almost throwing her back as he did so; "If you jeopardize the mission because you couldn't act like a fucking _grown up_, Jane will rip off your balls with a meat-hook."

Thomas, however, had worked himself up too much to just stop. In retrospect, this was hardly one of his finer moments, but the combination of lingering drugs, frustration at the current company, aching wounds and having to realize that someone they'd trusted in the Alliance had sold them out to the Church…it was all threatening to crack open his skull.

"And how about when you stole _hundreds_ of children from their homes and _tortured_ them on Teltin?! 'Humanity's Advancement' my _balls_! Did you ever actually take a look at the mirror at some point? Did you ever try erasing _bar-code_ from a little girl's shaved head, like she was some kind of fucking _convict_?"

"I _didn't_ do _any _of that shit!" Stevens yelled back, stepping forward; "I wasn't even _in_ Cerberus until last Christmas, _okay_? I didn't partake in the assassination on Kahoku, you or the abduction of those kids. I didn't do _anything_ wrong! So pull that stick out your ass, because I'm pretty fucking sick of you treating me like a criminal!"

Lacking a reply, Thomas was instead left staring at the operative. Had he…had he been wrong?

"And thus, we can agree that you do not agree." Hillary called once more, getting in between them; "And can we then now, for the love of God, get a fucking move on? Thomas, you're acting like a vengeful little brat, and it's _not_ becoming of you. Ashley would_ cringe_ if she saw you right now."

And now Hillary was yelling at him too. Shit, this wasn't going the way he'd thought it would. At _all_. First Stevens started shouting back, and then Hillary tore them both apart. And now she was _berating_ him, like a fucking child. _Fuck…Ashley would _cringe_? Am I really…I don't even know anymore. Shit!_

"And you, Stevens." The corporal growled, turning her ire at the operative; "While I _am_ grateful that you and Val saved us, I still trust you about as far as I can kick a Mako. Your organization's as rotten as any merc band, so if you even _look _like you're about to pull some sort of shit, I won't even hesitate to shoot you in the eye-socket."

"Son of-"

"Are we _clear_?" she snarled, cutting the American off before he could finish his swear. Both men, even as she looked between them, nodded affirming; "Good. Now you kids behave, and we stick to the plan, which is quite fucking simple. We kill the Bad Man."

"…who the Hel are you and what did you do with Corporal Moreau?" Thomas, in spite of the severe and scathing admonishing she'd just dished out, found himself more proud of her than ashamed of himself. Not to say he wasn't ashamed – not of his hatred for Stevens and Cerberus, but the way he'd gone about it – but somehow, Hillary had matured in the blink of an eye. And somehow, that meant far more to him than wanting to snap Stevens legs and leave him to die.

While Hillary might find it odd for him to address her with Joker's last name, it was entirely deliberate.

It was also worth noting, at least he thought so, that while Hillary didn't immediately react to her middle-name instead of her surname being used – Thomas didn't dare give Cerberus her surname since they only knew _his_ – , Stevens seemed to snap from whatever stupor he'd been in, and visibly stared at her. That much at least was clear, even through the polarized visor.

"Moreau?" he hesitated before asking; "Your surname is Moreau?"

"Yes, what, why?"

"It's…just…never mind, it's not important, I just thought…" the man trailed off, looking at his feet. This, to Thomas, more or less indicated that Stevens knew of Joker. Whether that was because of Cerberus' spies in the Alliance, or because the pilot had actually went and _joined_ Cerberus – if the latter was true, he'd have to break the bastard's legs – he wasn't sure. But it was a bad sign, regardless; "Forget it, I'm just…a bit tired."

"…Yeah, I'd bet." Thomas heard her mutter, even as they continued forward. The corridors ahead were exact copies of each other, and only the different signs gave any indication that the trio wasn't just walking in circles. Otherwise the place was a damn maze of hallways, corridors and stairwells.

And Templars lying in wait around almost every corner.

The first real ambush had happened when they'd passed through a garage for snow-vehicles. Most of them seemed meant to hover above the snow instead of actually plowing through it, but a few also looked like beefed-up Mako's without the middle pair of wheels, or just tank-treads instead of them altogether.

The entire room had been basically empty, devoid of any signs of human life whatsoever. This, of course, was in retrospect a clear indication that something was wrong, yet it wasn't until grenades started going off around them that the ambush was actually revealed. Up above, on the catwalks, Templars and technicians were lobbing grenades and firing launchers at the kill-zone down below.

And then it just…stopped. Thomas had been prepared for a fight, but when he'd aimed up at the cat-walks, the entirety of the ambushing group were already dead. They all lay slumped against the railings, necks twisted around or holes punched through their torsos. There hadn't even been screaming.

"What…the fuck?" Hillary gave voice to his thoughts; "No, seriously, _what the fuck_? What just…happened?"

"I think…maybe we're not alone in here." Thomas muttered, scanning the room. Aside from the mutilated templars, nothing was to be seen. A panicking note in the back of his mind kept imagining Necromorphs appearing from nowhere, yet, again, there was no sign of anyone or anything else moving in the garage; "Scans aren't showing anything else either…"

"This is seriously fucked up…" the corporal grumbled, taking slow steps through the room as she swept the upper walkways with Boss' DC; "But…as long as who- or whatever did that doesn't do it on us…"

"Let's hope." Stevens muttered uneasily, hurrying ahead. He wasn't even aiming his rifle at the upper levels or the corners of the room, as if he already knew beyond a doubt that nothing would be there.

"He _soooooo_ knows something." Hillary muttered as soon as the operative was out of ear-shot.

_"Definitely."_

"And why'd you call me 'Moreau' earlier?" she asked, her voice somewhat edgier now; "You _know_ I hate using the same name as Jeff."

"I have some suspicions…" Thomas replied as vaguely as he could. Hillary had never really come to terms with the part of his story where he knew roughly what would happen in the future, and besides, so much had already changed that he might as well be wrong. Maybe Joker had gone to Omega instead; "Nothing more."

Hillary chose not to comment or bite him for explanations – a rare thing for her to neglect – and instead just jogged along, no doubt as eager as him to leave behind the room of unexplained carnage.

"So, we find Danny-boy, and we kill him a few times. Shoot him in the leg first, if I might suggest." She rehearsed as if for a play when they caught up to the waiting Stevens. It still felt wrong on so many levels to see the Bulwark, a piece of military hardware _he_ had brought to the Alliance, be used and modified by Cerberus; "First, however, we have to actually _find_ him."

_"No shit?"_

"Shut it." she snapped, _not_ appreciating Stevens' snark. For Thomas, seeing her this determined to kill someone was…uncanny. He wasn't sure he liked the 'mature' Hillary anymore if this came with the upgrade; "Now, I managed to hack through and download a map of the base's interior from one of the dead goons…"

From her raised arm, a projection sprung onto the wall. It was a plan over the entire facility, which turned out to be pretty fucking huge. As far as he could see, it involved outdoor transition-areas, bridges and even lifts. There also seemed to be an overtly large amount of security-checkpoints, secured bulwarks and decontamination-zones, as well as a grayed-out zone simply labelled as 'Authorized Staff Only'.

"Okay, so we're _here_." Hillary used a small target-painter to point out their position on the plan. It wasn't actually all that far from the entrance towards the cliffside they'd fallen from; "Which means we'll have to go through quite a few of these checkpoints. We're _not_ going to win anything by trying to find another route _outside_ the facility, because there's bound to be Necro's running around out there."

"Necro's?" Stevens mused, scratching his helmet.

"Undead, simplified." The corporal explained with little evident interest; "It's kinda like a Husk, only they're entirely organic, reanimated corpses. Far as we know, the Church somehow controls them. They can range in sizes from human infants to a fucking elephant-sized monster. Imagine a Husk twice as fast, strong and hard to kill as the usual, and you'll have the _humanoid _Necro's."

"Holy shit…"

"Yeah…That's kinda the common reaction. Problem is, these things don't need Dragons teeth to spread. One of them can mutate into this…flying_ thing_, and infect every single corpse it comes across. Abraca-_fucking_-dabra, and where you had ten corpses you now have ten Necro's."

"So…they're like zombies, then?"

"'cept they don't die when giving your shotgun a blowjob."

"…Fuck me sideways." Stevens groaned; "And…how do you know all this?"

"Ever heard of the Ishimura-incident?" Hillary didn't even bother trying to conceal the malice as she spat out the ship's name.

"The Planet-Cracker that crashed, right?"

"Crashed?" the bark of laughter Thomas let escape was anything but happy; "_That's_ what they're calling it now? _Crashed_?"

"I suppose they _did_ aim it at the colony before putting a brick on the accelerator…" Hillary mused; "But the damn thing didn't just _crash_. It was infested with Necromorphs shortly after we arrived to escort a repair-crew to fix the comms of the ship. Then in less than six hours, a few thousand people were slaughtered like cattle and transformed. We…barely escaped, really. Hardly any crewmembers did."

_Kaidan._ They'd lost _Kaidan_ on that ship, and Thomas could still hear his agonized screams whenever he thought back, as clear and ravaging to his ears as was he back there in person. He'd been unable to save his friend and superior officer. Kaidan had died, pleading _him_ to save him. And he'd _failed._

And what had it all been for? Arresting a captain who ended up accidentally killed by a fucking syringe to the eye-ball. They'd _lost_ Kaidan for that. And hadn't even had a fucking _body_ for his parents to bury.

"That was…and…and you thought we were _working_ with these people?" Stevens exclaimed with clear disgust and disbelief.

"We're always suspecting a lot of things." Hillary answered off-handedly. Thomas realized with a start that she was watching him. What for, a reaction to her mentioning that mission? "Come on, we need to get a move on if we wanna kill Danik anytime today."

As it turned out, even as large as the map _made_ the facility appear, it was even bigger in person. Thomas honestly couldn't see how the Helheim those bastards had managed to get something _this_ massive constructed without the Alliance finding out about it.

"How old do you think this place is?" Hillary mused, breaking the silence that had fallen over the trio. Thomas still suspected Stevens of knowing more than he let on, and hoped that the operative would forget Hillary's threat and fuck something up. Anything as an excuse, especially if he was hiding something from them.

"Dunno…maybe like, ten, fifteen years?" the American muttered with little interest. He seemed a lot more focused on the hallway ahead, and his helmet kept doing tiny, almost impossible-to-spot jerks, as if he was talking to someone. If he was, the comms didn't detect anything.

"Why are you asking, Hill?"

"'cause of _that._" She gestured at an old, almost erased insignia on the walls they passed by. It looked a bit like the Alliance insignia, and then again, different. The Earth was there, alright, but instead of the Alliance arcs and stars, a white eagle hovered at the center of the image, carrying a downwards-pointed dagger. Or, maybe it was a sword. The letters S.C-F were still somewhat readable. There seemed to be maybe an 'A' in there as well, but he wasn't sure.

"…what is _that_, then?"

"Looks like this was an old SCAF-base, but…Shit, that'd make it at least, what, seventy-eighty years old?"

"SCAF?" Stevens, for the first time since the ambush, seemed openly curious; "What's that?"

"Honestly…Thomas I could understand not knowing this, but most people should at least _know_ their military history. S.C.A.F, Sovereign Colonies Armed Forces?" even through the helmet, it was clear to all that Hillary had put on an irritated scowl; "I swear, if this is how it's gonna be, I'll end up chucking a grenade. The two of you might be on opposite sides, but you're equally _fucking __dumb_."

"That's not a very nice thing to say." Stevens grumbled, walking ahead. Thomas honestly couldn't give two shits if the man was insulted; he was grateful that Hillary took some piss on the asshole too.

"Deal with it, I'm not here to be nice." He scoffed, holding her rifle at the ready as she followed Thomas after Stevens. Personally, there were still moments where he imagined pulling the trigger on Stevens. It would be easy to just say it had been the Unitologists who shot him, and he doubted Hillary would tell on him. After all, Cerberus were terrorists, weren't they?

He doubted anyone would have snitched on the Seal who shot Bin Laden. And wasn't Cerberus really just a non-religious version of the old terrorist-groups? They bombed, took hostages and assassinated innocents. And they abducted children.

There was no way in Helheim's deepest, coldest plains he would ever forgive them for that. Muspelheim would freeze over, and Garmr become a lapdog before he would make friends with those people.

Hillary leading the way, the trio slowly worked their way through the base. Reluctant as he was to overuse it, Thomas had found that the Compact Assault Carbine delivered far more devastating punches than the Mattocks used by the Templars, or the Phaeston Stevens used. Such as in the current firefight, where shield-bearing Templars filled the corridor, advancing with a mix of shotguns and drawn Vibro-swords.

"Demon! Make a hole!" Hillary yelled, leaping to cover as the first spread of pellets bit into her shields. His HUD displayed the status of her shields as having dipped to 75% from that one shot alone. It meant getting close wasn't an option, especially considering the bastards carried swords as well; "Those guys _really_ adopted the name, didn't they?"

He had long-since stopped bothering to remind her of the chain of command. Really, there wasn't even a point anymore. Plus, it was what he was going to do anyway.

Leaning out of cover as the guns were drawn to Hillary and Stevens, Thomas took aim and allowed his Carbine the second it needed to ionize the interior of the canister, then pulled the trigger the moment his HUD gave him the go. The recoil would have sprained an unarmored shoulder – which his luckily wasn't– as the weapon vomited out a burst of ionized gas-turned-plasma the rough size of a human thumb.

The shot raced across the corridor and impacted before he'd even registered it leaving the barrel. When it did, there was no sound of a projectile hitting metal. Instead it was like flash-boiling water as the plasma boiled and ate its way through the shield. Despite being more than bullet-proof, the shield barely stopped the attack from eating its way through both itself and the man behind it. He fell back with a strangled scream, a clean hole evaporated through his chest. Another immediately took his place, and the firing shifted towards the Service Chief instead.

"Oh…" Thomas couldn't quite contain his grin. He had just killed another human being, but never before had it been done with such…tidiness; "Oh fuck the Hel _yes!"_

"I want one of those!" Hillary exclaimed, even as she fired her Dragunov from the hip, clearly using her HUD to aim at the feet of the approaching Templars; "Wanna swap with my gun?"

"Not on your life, Corporal!"

"If the two of you are done feeling all awesome over killing someone, could you maybe keep doing it?" Stevens yelled, evidently less than exhilarated. To be fair – even if Thomas hated being that with anyone affiliated with Cerberus, much less the man who had _shot_ Ashley – the operative _was_ taking a fair deal of firing, _and_ he was closer to the Templars than any of them; "I'd like it very much_ not_ to get killed over here!"

"Yeah, that'd _be…bad,_ I guess…" Thomas groaned, charging the Carbine again; "What happened to that super-strength you seemed to have on the fucking Citadel?"

"Are you serious?" the American yelled back; "Those shields are reinforced _fucking_ titanium! If I can't shoot through, what the Hell makes you think-" a spray of pellets dug into his cover, and the top of his helmet got caught in the blast. His shields flared and he hit the ground; "Fuck! Just fucking use that Blaster and shoot them!"

Thomas obliged, but not because Stevens told him to. It was a simple matter of having to clear out the entrenched, yet mobile Templars. He charged a fresh burst and aimed at who he suspected was the leader; a Templar with a bright, white shield and the symbol of a twisting Marker emblazed on it. _Huh…he's gotta be the first I've met to call these things blasters…_

When he fired the shot, the leader seemed to have known he was being targeted. It wasn't all that hard to figure out, really, seeing as the heavy dust in the air made the ionizing laser quite visible. Even as the shot hit his shield, he'd angled it downwards, and some sort of shimmering film appeared in the split-second contact was made, before the sphere of plasma instead ricocheted into the floor.

"Oh fuck me…" so apparently, those shields could also reflect plasma. In hindsight, that was almost a given, seeing as the technology more or less _came_ from the Church weapons found on the Ishimura. Thomas didn't even know if the DC-84 Anna had presented to Parliament was reverse-engineered from the DC-15 or the plasma-cutters they'd found there; "Okay, _don't_ try to shoot the Markers."

"I kinda fucking noticed!"

"What's the plan, Chief?" Hillary more or less demanded over the comms, her voice brimming with mounting uncertainty and frustration. She slung the Dragunov over her shoulder and yanked out the DC-15 instead, then leaned from cover and hosed an entire clip into the approaching shield-wall. Only two Templars fell, the rest having managed to activate the same kind of shielding as their leader; "Because that shield-thing's not really limited to their leader!"

"Can't you throw a fireball at 'em?" the operative yelled, copying Hillary's attack with his Phaeston. Slugs pinged and ricocheted back from the impenetrable surfaces, only a few managing to even crack the glass-slits. Thomas snarled, more at the Unitologists than at Stevens, and only because he wasn't the one who'd drugged him.

"I _can't_!" he yelled back over the comms, unwilling to let the Templars listen in. Or maybe they already were, and it really didn't matter at all; "The drugs haven't worn off yet."

"Well fuck all kinds of _Duck_!"

"I'm not really into _that_!" Hillary yelled back, sounding as if her reply was more adrenaline than anything else; "Guys, I might have an idea…Follow my lead"

"I'm-_ shit_! – I'm ears!" Stevens yelled back, wincing from where a spray of pellets caught him in the face. He only kept said face because the shields managed to absorb the damage before shattering. He didn't seem to panic, however, which was…sort of worth respecting, Thomas supposed. He himself was more surprised when Hillary simply switched her speakers to out-of-helmet.

"RUN AWAY!" she screamed, very real-sounding fear in her voice. Thomas only had half a second to process what was happening before she took off, sprinting back down the turning corrido; "We have to get the _fuck_ out of here!"

"Thors' testicles!" it was the first swear that came to mind, even as he realized – he hoped – that this was what she had meant by a plan. Retreating wasn't going to get them where they needed to go, but…then again, neither would being dead. Besides, Stevens had already taken off as well, running faster than Thomas could even hope to mirror without his powers.

And now he was alone, with the Templars closing in. As the sole remaining target, all firing had shifted to focus on him, meaning the pylon he was covering behind was quickly losing its integrity. And then he'd be fucked regardless of whether he ran or not. _I seriously wish I'd tested this thing sooner…_

Keying the mental commands for his left arm – and praying to the gods that it hadn't been permanently damaged – Thomas leapt from cover even as the holographic field of red hexagons unfolded from his left arm, forming a shield of suspended omnigel and carbon-fibers. In less than a second, the non-Newtonian fluid came under fire, soaking the bullets meant for him as he backpedaled the best he'd learned.

It wasn't big enough to cover his entire body, and his own shields dipping with a near-constant rate was evidence that the Templars had found this out as well. They were deliberately aiming anywhere but at the suspended barrier, even if it meant targeting the tips of his boots. The pellet-spread was still furious enough that they'd hit no matter where they aimed those fucking shotguns.

The moment he rounded a corner and escaped the all-consuming fire, Thomas found himself yanked into cover by Hillary. Stevens, next to her, was busy pouring some sort of lube up and down the wall. Its gun-metal grey color made it look just like any kind of piping.

Probably knowing the Templars could be listening in, Hillary put a finger before the mouth of her mask, gesturing for Stevens to, as she herself would likely put it '_hurry the fuck up'_. Thomas took the chance to deactivate his shield and let it recharge, while preparing the Carbine to fire again. Charged, all he would have to do was to point and shoot, not having to wait for ionization again.

Being back in action like his, fully aware that people wanting him dead were approaching with the means to fulfill said desire, while also being in the company of a comrade and…a person, made Thomas realize how much he'd actually come to rely on being neigh-invulnerable. It was a sickening realization, that without his flames he might just end up dead here, today, because of that.

When Stevens stood from the job – and to his credit there was actually very little to see – Hillary simply legged it, not even bothering to signal for it or resume her screaming. Actually, this time she seemed to do it as quiet as possible. Beginning to understand her idea – he hoped, otherwise he had no clue at all what her plan was – Thomas followed, allowing Stevens to run past while he himself had the CAR aimed at the corridor. Already he could see the shadows on the opposite wall, yet it seemed as if the Templars weren't even in a hurry. _Why aren't they running after us? Why aren't they pursuing us with guns blazing? I don't get it, I don't get it!_

Still, the doubt didn't stop him from opening fire. At this angle, the plasma-bolt managed to strike its target in the side, killing the man before his shield had even been shifted around for the new course. Naturally, this was the only such luck Thomas had, as the rest all activated whatever made their shields impervious to the plasma, and he could only watch as it ricocheted off angles or simply dissipated when hitting the shield head-on.

They were more than ten meters from him, yet when the entirety of their arsenal unleashed on him, even distance stopped mattering to a shotgun. His shields were screaming, even as he launched himself into the nearest cover, only to find Stevens already there, holding a tiny cylinder with a red switch at the top. Hillary was next to him, peeking around the corner before clapping the American on the helmet.

"_I see dead people..._" he whispered, then flipped the switch.

* * *

Codex Entry: Templars of the Church

_The Templar-soldiers belonging to the Church of Unitology make up the private security force of the organization, and consists of an unknown number of men and women, most if not all themselves belonging to Altman's Church. Entirely devoted to Unitology, these soldiers protect the properties, interests and territories of the Church from anything and anyone who would so try to take it. Declared 'Heroic Protectors' by the Church itself, those less affiliated with the religion have instead compared them to Cerberus or simply common mercenaries, noting that while their equipment is certainly superior to what one would find in the Terminus, their ethics are entirely akin to that of the Eclipse – a claim that has been vehemently denied by the Church itself._

_Making up the armed branch of the Church, these soldiers are as well-equipped as any group of PMC's, and can more often than not be seen wearing Alliance-grade hardsuits and armor, as well as high-tech weapons usually reserved for Alliance Special Forces. _

_While rumors have it that the Alliance has lost its appreciation for the Church, the Templars themselves are commonly viewed as protectors and a show of positively spiritual force, whenever and wherever they appear. _


End file.
